And The Band Played On
by DiamondInThaRuff
Summary: Two brothers, one haunted blues club, and a ghost who refuses to play nice. The Winchester boys are in for one long night.
1. The City of Brotherly Love

**Summary:** Two brothers, one haunted blues club, and a ghost who refuses to play nice. The Winchester boys are in for one long night.

**Rating**: PG-13 to be safe. There's some violence and some language.

**Spoilers**: Mild spoilers for season one may be mentioned but nothing too revealing.

**Disclaimer**: Nope, I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters.

**A/N:** There is a small mention of my previous story "Blood in, Blood Out" but you don't have to read that story in order to understand this one. Also while Philadelphia is a true place there is no Sapphire Room located there.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**CHAPTER ONE**_

_July 13, 1947 – Philadelphia, Pennsylvania_

"Now, now, Bernie," Lucky Montgomery said as he grinned at the crumbled form of Bernie Fontaine who was cowering at his feet, "There's no need for all this." The man had his hands twisting together, pleading with the looming figure above him. But no amount of pleading could sway Lucky from the mission at hand.

Lucky Montgomery was not a man to be messed with. Even though he was a short, stocky man who hid his balding head under his trademark brown fedora, he still possessed an intimidating presence that forced even the toughest men, in the shadiest parts of Philadelphia to take a step back when meeting him. It may have had something to do with the entourage of gun wielding gangsters that flanked him wherever he went. Or it could be that his reputation of having a short temper and enjoying bloodshed far exceeded him. Bernie Fontaine however was in a category all by himself. While on the surface he was a well-dressed businessman who could charm any woman he came in contact with, in back alleys, such as the one he was currently weeping in, he was nothing more than a rat. A man who had a weakness for loose women, cheap liquor, and most of all gambling, which is how him and Lucky had managed to cross paths.

"Please," Bernie wheezed, "I'll get you the money."

"You said that last week Bernie," Lucky said as he took a puff of the cigar that he had been gesturing with, "and the week before that. And the week before that," he cracked a half smile and glanced at the two men who were standing behind Bernie, arms crossed. At seeing Lucky's smile they both cracked smiles of there own as if he had subconsciously ordered them to laugh at the comment when clearly he was the only one who had found it amusing. "But still," Lucky continued, extending his hand so that Bernie could see it, "what's there?" Bernie shook his head as he gapped at Lucky's empty palm. "What's in my hand, Bern?" Lucky yelled at him.

Bernie flinched. "Nothin'." He whispered.

"What?" Lucky cupped his ear with the same empty hand and leaned in towards Bernie as if straining to hear.

"Nothin'." Bernie said a little louder, staring down at the hard pavement that was biting into his knees.

"That's right." Lucky whispered as he nodded his head, his eyes staring thoughtfully at the brick wall next to him. "You know what that means?"

Bernie whipped his head from the wall to Lucky's face before shaking his head, "You ain't gettin' my club." Lucky shook his head in the same fashion that a parent would if they were scolding a disobedient child. He then turned his back on Bernie and rocked back on forth on the balls of his feet.

"We made a deal Bernie." He said as he raised the cigar to his lips, "Either the money," he glanced over his shoulder at Bernie's face which was seething with anger, "or the club. You made your choice."

"You ain't gettin' my club!" Bernie shouted and jumped to his feet, intending on charging Lucky but was met instead with the two lackeys wrapping their hands around his arms and holding him steady.

Lucky turned, a look of amusement on his face. "Yes, I am." He replied matter-of-factly.

"Over my dead body." Bernie replied through clenched teeth.

"That can be arranged." Lucky said as he whipped out a pistol from his waistband and before Bernie even had a chance to gasp the gun was fired at his head. Bernie's head snapped back and his body collided with the pavement loudly as the two lackeys dropped their hold on his arms. Lucky laughed as the blood began to pool around Bernie's body, a stunned look frozen on his face. Lucky crouched down and stared into Bernie's lifeless eyes, "It's mine now, Bern."

Lucky Montgomery was not a man to be messed with.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Present Day_

Dean slapped the newspaper onto the table as he slid into the booth across from Sam. Sam, who had been thoroughly enjoying his scrambled eggs and bacon, glared at his brother who was happily grinning back at him.

"You almost spilled my coffee." Sam complained.

Dean waved him off and pointed at the paper, "I found our next job."

Sam glanced down at the article that Dean had circled. It was a tiny blurb on the fifth page of the Arts & Entertainment section of the paper. The headline read 'Historic Sapphire Room Slated for Demolition'. Sam scanned the article. There didn't appear to be anything remotely out of the ordinary in regards to the article aside from the fact that it was in a Michigan newspaper and The Sapphire Room was located in Philadelphia. It was far out of the realm of local news and Sam wondered what was so significant about The Sapphire Room that would make its impending demolition news in Michigan.

Sam looked over at his brother who was too busy flagging down the waitress to notice that Sam had finished reading the article. The waitress sauntered over and smiled warmly at the men before her.

"What can I get ya?" She asked.

"Just a cup of coffee for me, sweetheart." Dean grinned back. The waitress smiled flirtatiously as a blush began to rise in her cheeks. She scribbled the order on her notepad and then turned towards Sam. Sam shook his head.

"Nothing for me, thanks." He smiled.

The waitress smiled at both of them again and then went off to fetch Dean's coffee.

Once the waitress was gone Sam picked up the newspaper and tossed it at Dean. "I don't get it." Sam said as Dean clumsily caught the paper and frowned at it, "How is a demolition of some old blues club a job?"

"It's The Sapphire Room." Dean said but Sam just stared at him blankly and shrugged his shoulders. "The Sapphire Room?" Dean said again waiting for Sam's reaction but again Sam just shrugged his shoulders. Dean exhaled, "It's like the Alcatraz of blues clubs. There are hundreds of stories about hauntings and ghostly encounters there." Dean smirked, "But I guess that's not something you would learn in Stanford. Huh, college boy?"

"That's what you're going off of? An urban legend?" Sam laughed.

Dean nodded, "We've gone off less."

Sam stared at him for a minute before cracking a sideways smile.

"So instead of going with Shane to follow up a lead on a witch, we're going to take a look at a club which may or may not be haunted and is going to be torn down anyway." Sam nodded, "Yeah that makes sense." He said sarcastically.

Dean sighed. He knew Sam was going to bring that up. A week after the job with the Asinaedo Shane had gotten a call from one of her contacts in Georgia about a series of mysterious disappearances and deaths in a small town outside of Atlanta. The contact had managed to connect all the victims to a woman who was known locally for her interest in the occult and black magic. Sam had insisted that he and Dean go with Shane but she had refused. Dean wasn't sure why she wanted to go by herself but he figured that if she really was as much like him as she had demonstrated in the past few days then he had a pretty good idea as to why she wanted to go alone. She felt the need to prove herself and having her two older, male cousins tag along would be detrimental to that. Sam, however, didn't see it that way.

"Sam," Dean sighed, "We've been over this."

"It just doesn't make any sense," Sam said leaning forward, "You come get me from college so that we can find Dad and put this family back together. Then we find out we have a cousin, who's after the same thing that we are, and we just let her go. Just like that."

By Sam's expression Dean could tell that he had been thinking about this issue for awhile. Dean had too but he'd never let Sam know that. He hadn't wanted Shane to leave because in the back of his mind he feared what might happen if she needed back up and they weren't there. He knew she'd been hunting for awhile and was quite experienced but she wasn't as trained as his father, him and Sam and Dean would never forgive himself if something were to happen to her. But, Winchesters were stubborn and Dean knew that first hand.

"Sometimes when people have their minds set on leaving, you just gotta let them go." Dean raised an eyebrow. "You should know that better than anybody." He knew that making the connection between Shane's departure and Sam's leaving for Stanford was probably a low blow but it was the only way he knew to guilt trip Sam enough so that he would drop the issue. His attempt at logically explaining Shane's need for independence had failed.

"You know what Dean?" Dean could see that he had struck a nerve with Sam. He never liked to play Devil's advocate with him but sometimes his emotions overcame him. "You sit here and complain about how_ I_ left. About how _I_ abandoned you because I'm the heartless bastard who needed to feel normal for once in his life. To not be a soldier for once in my life but," Sam shrugged, "Dad left too. And now, so did Shane. So why do you defend them and their reasons for leaving but you constantly play the victim with me?"

"Play the victim?" Dean was angry at the insinuation but he kept his voice at a sharp whisper to avoid the stares that would result if his anger boiled over, "Dad left so that he could find the demon that killed mom. Shane left because she had a job to do. You left because you wanted to get away from me and our family. And even though I was hurt that you left, I _never_ tried to stop you!"

Dean quickly bit his tongue as he saw the waitress approach. She placed the coffee in front of him and Dean shot her a forced but warm smile. He looked at the coffee and realized he no longer had any desire to drink it. He knew that Sam was watching him but he refused to say anything further, fearing that'd he only regret it later.

"Dean," Sam started but his words were cut short by Dean's sudden rise from the table. Dean wasn't sure whether Sam had intended to prolong the fight or end it, either way he had no intention of listening. "Dean," Sam called again as his brother brushed past him, "Where are you going?"

"Philly." Dean muttered as he pushed open the door to the diner and headed out into the midday sun.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After 8 hours, three failed attempts at conversation and two pit stops the Winchester boys finally arrived in Philadelphia. Dean pulled the Impala into the first motel he saw and cut the engine. The area around the motel and the motel itself appeared to be pretty rundown but Dean was too tired to care. Besides that, it was late and finding a decent motel in this part of Philadelphia, at a reasonable price, at this hour was next to impossible, so this place would have to suffice.

"Be back." He muttered to Sam as he slipped out of the Impala and headed towards the main office.

Sam was half asleep but was aware of Dean's absence. He opened his eyes and surveyed his surroundings. The place was definitely not intended for vacationers. Nothing about the small motel appeared to scream 'Welcome to Philly' unless you took into account the three scantily clad females smiling and waving at Sam from their place in the small alley next to the motel. _Great place Dean_, Sam thought to himself just as his brother reappeared next to the car.

"C'mon Sleeping Beauty," Dean called, "Rise and shine." He grabbed his bag out of the back and started heading towards their assigned room. Sam grabbed his bag and followed him. As Dean unlocked the door Sam glanced over and saw an older black male, seated on a chair outside the motel room door next to theirs. The man was watching them intently and smiled happily when he caught Sam's eye.

"Evening fellas." He nodded. Before Sam even had a chance to respond, the mans' attention had returned to staring off into the distance.

Sam paused outside the motel room door for a second watching the man. When the man made no further attempt at conversation Sam paid it no attention and followed Dean into the motel room. Dean had already dropped his bag at the foot of the bed and plopped down, the remote clutched in his hand.

"Listen Dean," Sam said as he sat down at on the other bed, "I know you're mad but-"

"I'm not mad." Dean cut him off. He really wasn't even though he knew his voice wasn't letting that on. After an 8 hour drive it was hard for him to hold onto his anger, especially when it was Sam who he was supposed to be angry with. He was actually more hurt than anything else but his voice wasn't letting that on either.

"Dean."

"Listen," Dean said with exasperation, "I'm not mad. If you're still determined to have a 'chick flick moment' after the jobs done, then I'm all for it. But right now, let's just drop it and focus on what we're here for."

Sam shook his head. "Whatever man," He got to his feet and headed to the door, "I'm getting some air."

Outside Sam was greeted again but the same old man. "So what brings you boys to town?" The man asked his eyes still staring off towards something in the distance.

"Um," Sam jammed his hands into his pockets and walked towards the man, leaning against the building once he was close enough, "business."

The man nodded and extended his hand, "Name's James, by the way."

Sam took his hand and gave it a hearty shake, "Sam."

"And the other fella you came with?" James asked nodding towards Sam's motel room. Sam paused for a second, wondering if he should answer. After all, he didn't know this man and trust had never been one of Sam's strong suites. He knew too much about the world to trust everyone he encountered. Sam gave the man a once over before cautiously answering.

"That's my brother, Dean." The man nodded, his line of questioning ending there. "So," Sam said in an attempt to continue the casual conversation. "you lived here long, James?"

"In Philly?" he asked, only casting Sam a sideways glance, "My whole life."

Sam nodded, deciding that he could try to milk this guy for information. The sooner they finished this "job" the sooner they could join Shane in Georgia and handle a real situation and then begin the process of finding their father and repairing this broken family.

"So you know about The Sapphire Room?" Sam asked casually and was surprised when the man turned in his chair and looked up at Sam.

"What do you know about The Sapphire Room?"

"Not much but I was thinking, you've lived here you're whole life, maybe you could tell me about it?" Sam attempted to smile but the expression on James' face forced his smile to melt.

"Is that your business here, Sam?" James' asked in a stiff tone of voice.

"Uh," Sam hesitated. He didn't like the way James sounded but something inside of him refused to back down. "Yes. We're attempting to postpone the demolition." Sam lied.

"Stay away from that place." James ordered.

"Why?" Sam asked, taking a step closer to James.

"Bad things happen there." James' voice was shaking as he said it.

"Like what?" Sam's eyes narrowed as he crouched down so that he was eye level with James. Sam heard the motel room door behind him close. He turned slightly and saw Dean standing outside the door, a questioning look on his face. Sam nodded, inviting Dean to move closer and then turned back to James who was tight lipped.

James looked from the young man couched before him to the one approaching him. He opened his mouth to say something but clamped it shut suddenly. "Just stay away from that place." He commanded as he rose from the chair. He pushed the door to his motel room open and glanced back at the two brothers, "Hear me youngbloods. Stay…away…from…The Sapphire Room." And then he disappeared into the room, slamming the door behind him.

Sam looked back at his brother. Both of their faces were fixed with a look of confusion.

"You sure know how to make friends, don't you Sammy boy?" Dean laughed as he clasped a hand down on Sam's shoulder. "Welcome to the City of Brotherly Love." He smirked.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**TBC…**

**Don't forget to review, thanks**.


	2. Preliminary Investigation

**Disclaimers**: Do I own them? Psh, only in my dreams.

**A/N**: Like always, reviews are appreciated.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Chapter Two**_

"What did you say to the man to get him that angry?" Dean asked once they were back inside the room.

"We were talking about The Sapphire Room and he just got real serious and said don't go there." Sam shrugged as he reached for his laptop.

"Why?" Dean asked as he slid back onto his bed.

Sam stopped and contemplated what James had told him. _Bad things happen there_. Sam wondered what the old guy had been talking about. Bad things happening do usually result in hauntings but Sam couldn't shake the feeling that there was something the old man wasn't telling him. The look of fear that James had attempted to hide hadn't gone unnoticed by Sam. But there was something else there. Something Sam could only describe as a look of genuine sadness.

"Sam?" Sam realized his pause had lasted a little too long.

"Huh?" he asked.

"Why'd he say not to go to The Sapphire Room?" Dean inquired with a little more force behind his words.

"I dunno, Dean." Sam sighed, "He didn't say. I'm gonna do some research and find out what really happened there."

"Good idea, geek boy." Dean leaned back against his pillow, "First thing in the morning."

Sam shook his head and opened the laptop, "No, I wanna get it started now."

"Sammy, it's late." Dean pointed out, "The best thing to do is rest and start fresh in the morning."

"Rest?" Sam scoffed. "This coming from the guy who'll sleep for three hours and then go out and fight a poltergeist."

"Well," Dean shrugged, "that's 'cause I'm talented. You on the other hand-" Dean stopped, leaving the insult opened ended.

Sam shut the laptop. He knew he could work off of three hours of sleep but decided to attempt to sleep anyway, if only to appease Dean. He'd research in the morning.

"Besides," Dean continued, "you could really use some beauty sleep. You're starting to look like a bad imitation of Shaggy from Scooby Doo."

"Oh yeah and you look so much better?" Sam shot back.

"I always look good, which is why I don't need as much sleep as you." Dean grinned before switching off the light and sinking back into the bed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean woke the next morning to find Sam already up, dressed and staring intently at the computer screen.

"How long have you been up?" Dean yawned.

Sam glanced at his watch. It was 8 which meant he'd been awake for five hours. He knew Dean wouldn't be too pleased about that so instead of setting himself up for a lecture, he lied. "Only an hour." He shrugged.

Dean yawned again as he swung his legs out of the bed. "Find anything?" He asked as Sam continued to click the keys of his computer. Sam held up his index finger, signaling for Dean to wait. After a few more seconds of clicking Sam peeled his eyes away from the computer and looked at his brother.

"You were right about stories of hauntings there." Sam turned the computer in Dean's direction. On the screen was the homepage of a website dedicated entirely to stories regarding ghostly encounters that people claimed to have had at The Sapphire Room. "My favorite though," Sam smiled as he spun the computer back around to face him, "is the story of a woman who told her husband that after visiting The Sapphire Room she was possessed by the spirit of a woman who died there. When the spirit finally left her later that night, she found herself in bed with a strange man," Sam turned and raised both of his hands in front of him for emphasis, "naked."

Dean laughed, "That's a new way to explain cheating."

"I know." Sam nodded still grinning.

"Most of the stuff on this site is either second hand accounts or just stories past down through the generation but after some cross referencing between this site and a few others I did manage to find records of who owned it and what actually happened there."

Dean clapped his hands, "The King of Research comes through again."

Sam rolled his eyes, "You wanna know what happened or not."

Dean rose from the bed and joined Sam at the table. "Hit me."

Sam bit back the desire to launch a sarcastic reply at Dean's last remark. Something to the effect of how he'd be glad hit Dean but decided against it. Relaying this information was far more important at the moment. He'd save the sarcasm for later.

"The Sapphire Room was opened in 1942 by Bernard Fontaine. Fontaine was originally from Harlem and had been actively involved in the Harlem Renaissance. After he left Harlem he came to Philly and opened The Sapphire Room. In 1947, a mysterious fire ripped through the building. There were no survivors. The strange part though, no bodies were found."

"What happened to Fontaine?" Dean asked.

"No one ever heard from him after the fire. Most people assumed he either died in the fire or was the one who set it for the insurance money but got spooked and skipped town." Sam explained, his eyes scanning the computer screen.

"Why would they think he's torch his own club?"

"Fontaine liked to gamble. No one knew how serious it was but it was always a theory that he got in too deep."

"What happened to the club after the fire?"

"In 1948, the club was purchased by Roberto "Lucky" Montgomery. He renovated it and reopened it under the same name. A month later he was found dead in his office, a single bullet wound to the head. There were no clues and no arrests were ever made. The club stayed open for another five years under different management but people kept complaining about strange things happening. Out of fear, the club was shut down and sold. The new owner encountered the same problems and ended up selling it to the state. It was boarded up and has been like that ever since."

Dean cracked a grin, "All this, and you've only been awake for an hour?" Sam heard the skepticism in Dean's voice. He shrugged and cracked a sideways smile.

Dean returned the smile. "Well, looks like we've got some snooping around to do. I'm gonna go take a shower and we can head over and take a look at this Sapphire Room."

"Yeah," Sam pretended to sniff the air, "you do that."

"What?" Dean said as he stood up, "Like you smell like a bed of roses first thing in the morning."

"Actually it's lilacs." Sam joked.

"See that right there," Dean waved a finger at Sam, "explains why you like chick flick moments. You're a chick." Dean laughed.

Sam rolled his eyes, "Go take your shower." He ordered.

"Okay, okay," Dean lifted his hands up in mock surrender, "But seriously, answer one question for me," he leaned towards Sam, "where do you hide your uterus?" Sam swung his fist at Dean jokingly but Dean sidestepped the swing and backpedaled towards the bathroom, "It was just a question." He laughed as he closed the bathroom door behind him leaving Sam standing by the table shaking his head, a smile creeping onto his lips.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After Dean got out of the shower and was met with a pillow to the face from Sam for his earlier comment, the two headed over to The Sapphire Room. It was only a 15 minute drive from the motel. Dean, however, managed to make it there in 7. Sam had expected to see the place surrounded with construction workers, machinery poised, debating on how the demolition would be done. Or at the very least someone posted outside the club to prevent activists or the curious tourist from entering but instead, he found the club darkened and boarded up. The building was tucked between a corner store and an empty lot that judging from the overgrown grass, broken glass, and discarded waste, hadn't been maintained in a long while.

Dean pulled the Impala over and stared at the once thriving club. "So this is it." He said. "Is it just me or did you expect something more-" Dean paused, unable to think of how to fill in the blank.

"Preserved?" Sam suggested.

Dean nodded slowly as he studied the club. The front had two pieces of plywood blocking the front entrance which had been covered with graffiti. The two large upstairs windows had been broken and were both boarded up from the inside. Whoever had done the boarding up hadn't even bothered to remove the broken glass. It was still hanging slightly out of the window, threatening to fall at any given moment.

"Yeah." He said finally with a shrugged, "Oh well, let's go."

He exited the vehicle and headed towards the building. "Dean?" Sam called after him. Dean turned back and looked at his brother, _"Shotgun?"_ he mouthed. Dean thought for a second before nodding at Sam. Better safe than sorry. Sam looked around, checking to make sure the coast was clear before reaching into the trunk, grabbing one of the shotguns and concealing it under his jacket.

The main entrance to The Sapphire Room was facing the street and Dean knew that breaking in that way would probably attract too much attention. He glanced into the alley next to the empty lot and figured it made more sense then trying from the side near the store because the store attracted more attention than the empty lot. He gestured at Sam to follow him.

"Shouldn't we be doing this at night?" Sam whispered as he followed behind Dean.

"This is a preliminary investigation," Dean said, "We find out what we're dealing with now, come back and kill it tonight."

They crept around the back of the building. The service entrance was still there but a large dumpster had been rolled in front of it, most likely to keep people out.

Dean sized the dumpster up. "You eat you're Wheaties this morning?" He cracked as he leaned his shoulder against the dumpster. Sam mimicked his actions.

"You may need you're Wheaties," Sam quipped, "But I've got brute strength."

Dean rolled his eyes, "Yeah, whatever Boy Wonder. On my count," he ordered, "1…2…3." Both Sam and Dean leaned into the dumpster with all their strength and after a few hard pushes, managed to move the dumpster away from the door.

Once the door was free of the dumpster, Dean instinctively reached for the doorknob and gave it a turn. The door didn't budge. He could hear Sam laughing behind him. "What?" he shrugged, "It was worth a try."

"Ya'll tryin' to get into The Sapphire Room?"

Both Dean and Sam spun around and faced the alley they'd taken to get behind the club. Standing in the alley were two boys who looked to be in their late teens. They were both dressed in baggy pants and oversized jackets. The one who had spoken had his hair covered with a white do-rag while the other wore a fitted Philadelphia Phillies baseball cap.

"No," Sam stepped forward, "We were uh-" Sam shot Dean a look hoping for his brother to take the lead.

"Chill," the other boy said, "We ain't gonna rat you out."

"Why you tryin' to go in there anyway?" the first boy asked, "You know it's haunted, right?"

"Yeah," Dean said finally with a grin, "We're visiting from out of town and wanted to see what all the hype was about."

"I don't think ya'll should go in there. Weird things happen inside that place." The first boy said again, "I mean, that's what I heard."

The other boy laughed, "Chris, you a punk. Here," he stepped forward and knelt down in front of the service door, "I got that." He pulled a pocket knife out of his pocket and began working on the lock. Dean knew he could pick the lock himself but he was still trying to play the role of curious tourist so he let the kid do his job.

"What you mean I'm a punk." Chris asked, "People go in that place and don't come out Dre."

"What are you talkin' about?" Dre asked, his hands still working on the lock. Dean took a step back and stood next to Sam, watching the interplay between the two teens with amusement.

"You remember Jameer's cousins, baby's mother's best friend, Shanice?" Dre nodded, "She went in there one night on a dare and nobody ever heard from her again."

Dre shot Chris a look.

"Shanice moved to Florida, you fool."

Chris paused, "W-well," Chris stuttered and then paused again, "That's what you think." He finally spit out the remark attempting to resemble a logical argument but fell flat.

Chris turned to look at Dean and Sam who were both stifling laughs. "All I'm sayin' is weird things happen there. Like sometimes, late at night, I be hear music comin' from inside."

Sam's interest was peaked, "What kind of music?" he asked.

"Like Louis Armstrong type music." Chris said.

"Blues?" Dean asked. Chris nodded enthusiastically at having someone show interest in his story.

"I told you before," Dre said as he rose to his feet, "You just be hearin' shit."

"You never heard the music?" Dean asked.

Dre shook his head, "Nah, I'm never around when he _claims _to hear it."

"If you think I'm so full of shit then how come you never went in there?" Chris demanded.

""Cause on the slim chance that you are right, I ain't tryin' to fuck with no ghosts." Dre laughed. He twisted the doorknob that he had just been working on and gave it a push. The door creaked open revealing a dark hallway with a few streaks of sunlight leaking through. Dre took a step back and stared into the building, "There you go."

Sam was glad he had thought to bring a flashlight with him. He pulled it out of his back pocket and approached the door. He clicked the flashlight on and shined it into the building. The hallway ran parallel to the outside wall and Sam figured that there would be a doorway at the end that let to the main ballroom. Dean was right behind him. They glanced back at the Chris and Dre who had taken a few more steps back.

"G'luck." Chris called, "Hope you make it out." Dre gave him a playful punched to the shoulder. Then they both ran out of the alley.

"Punks." Dean joked as he and Dean began down the alley. There was enough light so that the flashlight wasn't necessary but Sam kept it on just in case. The hallway opened up slightly revealing three doors. Two were directly in front of them, the third was on the left.

"Pick a door, any door." Sam muttered as he shone the light over all three. As if on cue, the door to the left slowly creaked open. Sam peaked through and saw that the door led to the main ballroom. He glanced back at Dean who was attempting to peak past him into the room, "You really think we should go into the room that the building chose for us."

"Seems welcoming enough." Dean replied sarcastically as he pushed past his brother and entered the ballroom. The room was streaming with sunlight which for some odd reason, surprised Dean. The place actually _did_ seem welcoming and that in a way was more scary that if it had been dark, dank and looming. Against the left wall was a small stage, raised about two feet off the ground. The room was littered with tables and chairs, some overturned, others positioned at odd angles. Dean took a step into the room and immediately ducked behind the bar which was resting against the right wall.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam asked as he entered the room and looked around.

Dean popped his head from under the bar, realizing that the bar had long since been stripped of alcoholic beverages. "Huh?" he asked, "Oh," he stood up empty handed, "I was just checking."

Sam pulled the shotgun out of his jacket and began to push through the tables. Dean retreated from the bar and pulled out his EMF meter and began to sweep the surrounding area. After five minutes of nothing Dean had become bored with the ballroom.

"Here." He said, tossing the meter to Sam. "I'm gonna go check one of the other rooms."

"Okay." Sam replied, "But Dean," Dean stopped and looked at him, "Be careful."

"Dude, I know." Dean replied before turning and heading back into the hallway. He swung open the first door and was greeted by the clattering of pots. He jumped back slightly as a pan came rolling out into the hallway. He picked up the pan and tossed it back into a kitchen. A kitchen was rarely a hotspot for spiritual energy so Dean decided to bypass it and check the second door. Considering that the second owner Montgomery had been killed in his office he figured that was the best place to check for energies. He pushed open the second and looked in cautiously. Inside was a desk, a filing cabinet and various other office related items.

_Bingo_, Dean thought as he stepped into the office. The room was well light so Dean had no problem making his way over to the filing cabinet. The cabinet produced a shrill squealing sound as Dean pulled it open. He grimaced at the sound.

He quickly began to root through the files. Most of the useful files had been removed prior to the closing of the club but Dean still found a few records that had been left behind. He began to pull the files out when a loud crash behind him caught his attention. He whirled around and saw that the door he'd entered from had been slammed shut. _Wind_, he thought hopefully but he had no such luck. Just as he had gotten all of the files out of the cabinet he heard a booming voice coming from the direction of the closed door.

"I'm sorry son," it said, "but you don't appear to be on the list." And with that Dean felt himself behind hurled backwards into the desk.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam swept the ballroom but still wasn't getting a reading. He began to think that he was right all along. The stories about hauntings at The Sapphire Room were just urban legends. Just as he was prepared to turn off the meter and go find Dean he heard a low whirling coming from homemade meter. He looked down and saw the red lights shining back at him. When he looked up again he saw the transparent image of a woman looking back at him. The woman had brown hair pinned tightly around her head with a small barrette holding it all together. She had strings of pearls highlighting her collar bone and her red dress hung loosely over her thin form. Around her shoulders was a white fur wrap. Sam's immediate reaction was to take a step back and point the shotgun at the woman. The woman didn't appear to be threatening but it was an instinctual act to back away from anything transparent that appear out of thin air.

The woman didn't acknowledge Sam's existence. She took a step towards Sam and before he had a chance to react she walked right through him. Sam spun around and watched as the woman continued to walk and then within the blink of an eye, she was gone. Sam stared at the place where the woman had been for a second. Vengeful, angry ghosts he could handle but pretty, smiling ghost who paid him no attention was a new experience.

His mind was pulled out of its thoughts by a loud bang. "Dean!" he called. When he received no response he started towards the hallway where the noise had come from. "Dean!" he called again. No response. Sam began to panic. He raced towards the first door and encountered the same clattering of pots that had attacked Dean earlier. He kicked the pots back into the kitchen and turned to the second door. He tried the handle but it wouldn't budge. He threw his shoulder into the door while calling his brothers name. He heard a loud crash from behind the door.

"GET OUT OF MY CLUB!" A voice ordered from inside the room.

Sam summoned all his strength and with one last shove, the wooden doorframe broke and the door gave way. He rushed into the room and saw his brother struggling to get to his feet. Aside from Dean, the room appeared to be empty. Dean's only injury was a thin line of blood dripping from the corner of his eyebrow. He wiped the blood away and looked at Sam who had rushed to his side and was trying to help him out of the room.

"I'm fine," Dean said, pushing Sam away, "Just got some face time with the desk.

"What was it?" Sam asked.

"It was just a voice." Dean said glancing around the room suspiciously.

"A voice." Sam paused, "A voice threw you into a desk."

"No Sammy," Dean replied his voice dripping with sarcasm, "I was so scared that I threw _myself_ into the desk." He glared at Sam for a minute.

Sam suddenly remembered the girl in the ballroom. "I saw a-" He paused and gestured towards the ballroom.

Dean raised his eyebrow, "You saw a what?"

"A girl."

"A girl?" Dean questioned, "That figures. I get tossed around by an angry ghost and you get a girl. So, you still believe that this is all just some urban legend?"

Sam glanced around the room before cautiously, "Guess not."

"Good. Then tonight we come back," Dean directed his comment to the apparent empty room, "And I'm gonna kick your transparent ass!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**TBC…**


	3. Following Leads

**Disclaimer:** I still claim no affiliation to Supernatural, its characters or anything else.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

James watched the two men return. His attempt at deterring their interest in The Sapphire Room had failed miserably and he was well aware of it. Even before he had left the boys the previous night he knew that his words had fallen on deaf ears. Now as he watched them get out of their vehicle he couldn't help but feel a pang of remorse at not having warned them more effectively.

The shorter of the two, the one he hadn't been formally introduced to, was nursing a healthy looking cut on the side of his face. The cut was superficial and probably would require only a cleaning but the fact that it was preventable infuriated James. _He_ could have prevented it. The shorter one was grumbling to himself as he hurried towards the motel room.

"That's one hell of a shiner you got there, youngblood." Dean froze and looked at the old man. James wasn't even looking at Dean and if he hadn't known any better Dean would have questioned his own hearing. A solemn glance in Dean's direction validated that the question had come from the old man and was indeed directed towards Dean.

"What can I say?" Dean shrugged, "I make friends almost as easily as my brother here." Dean had no patience to be interrogated by a man who hadn't uttered so much as a decent word to him since their arrival. Dean reached for the doorknob but James wasn't about to let him off the hook that easily.

"Bernie Fontaine one of those friends?" James inquired, his eyes still staring nonchalantly into the distance.

At the sound of the name Sam, who had been cautiously packing weapons into a bag at the trunk of the Impala stopped his actions and moved towards the old man. Dean stood with his hand hovering above the doorknob, his eyes also trained on James, who still showed no interest in the statement he had just made or the amount of attention it had earned him.

"Did you say Bernie Fontaine?" Sam asked as he moved and stood next to James, his tall stature casting a shadow over the old man.

"That's who gave your brother that wound, isn't it?"

Sam looked back at Dean who had inched closer and was now standing just behind him. He turned his attention back to the James, "So you did know more than you were telling us last night?"

James sighed and nodded half heartedly. "I was trying to protect you. There's no need for you boys to be lurking around in things you know nothing about."

Dean had the distinct desire to yell at the man. Tell him that they knew more about these types of things that James could possibly imagine. Give him 'The Truth is out There' speech. Scare the living hell out of him with stories of all the horrible things that they had encountered, things that had nearly killed, maimed or dismembered them.

Either that or laugh hysterically.

Instead he chose to take the road less traveled. He chose to use as much pleasantness and sincerity as he could muster at the given moment. "No offense, but we don't need your protection." Dean could see Sam shooting him a stern look that cried 'Dean, shut up' but Dean knew this man had information pertaining to The Sapphire Room that was itching to get out and Dean was just the one to scratch that itch. "We need information." He continued, "Now, I know you know something about The Sapphire Room and if you really wanna help us, tell us what you know because we're not leaving here until you do."

James' shoulders straightened up as though his muscles had suddenly tensed. He turned in his chair and looked at the brothers. His eyes tracing over both boys features before his gazed dropped to his folded hands.

"When I was a little bit younger than the two of you," James began, "I had a fiancé. Her name was Maryann. The most beautiful girl you've ever laid eyes on. Voice like an angel." James suddenly stopped and smiled as if the memories of the girl had suddenly come rushing back to him. "You know," He looked at Dean and Sam, the smile still curved onto his face, "they used to say she could be the next Billie Holiday. Imagine that. Me, married to the next Billie Holiday." James stopped talking and the smile slowly faded.

"What happened to her?" Sam asked, hoping it was related to The Sapphire Room and not just an opportunity for the James to reminisce about his past to his captive audience.

"She was a singer at The Sapphire Room." Dean and Sam exchanged looks. "The night of the fire, she was there singing." James shook his head. His eyes had begun to water but he was holding himself together pretty well. "Bernie, the owner, he trusted her. In that day it was a strange thing for a white man to confide in a black woman but he did. He told her how he liked to gamble and he had taken out a loan with Lucky Montgomery and had used the club as collateral."

"Lucky Montgomery?" Dean asked, "Isn't that the guy who bought the club after the fire and ended up getting killed there?"

James nodded, "Nobody was too upset about his murder though. Probably the reason why the police didn't investigate too thoroughly. Lucky wasn't really a likable man. Anyway, Bernie told Maryann that he'd rather die then give up his club." James paused. "I wish I would have taken his statement more seriously when she told me. I didn't think he'd actually-"

James dropped his head to his hands. "I didn't-" His voice caught in his throat, "think he'd kill all those people. Kill my Maryann." The tears had begun to spill freely now and Sam wanted to continue to question the man but he knew how hard it was to accept Jessica's death and felt that prying now may cause James to clam up even more.

Dean on the other hand was determined to question the man. He lowered his voice and leaned in towards the man placing his hand on James' shoulder. Even though Sam knew that Dean was intent on asking some more question he was aware that Dean was also trying to comfort James as much as possible without giving up on the conversation.

"You think Bernie set the fire?" Dean asked.

James wiped away some of the tears. "Not directly," he sniffled. "Maryann said she heard him on the phone, talking to a woman named Catherine St. Croix. She said that it sounded like they were planning something and when Bernie caught her listening he threatened her. He slammed her against the wall and told her that if she told anybody, he'd kill her. When she told me, I wanted to kill him but she begged me not to. She said he wasn't serious and that he was just afraid of Lucky. A week later, the fire happened."

James shook his head, "What I still don't understand it," he looked at Dean and Sam with a look of utter confusion, "they never found any bodies. The police said the bodies were incinerated but how can a fire incinerate all those bodies but leave the structure of the building still in tact. Is that possible?"

Dean and Sam exchanged looks again. "I dunno." Sam shrugged, "But, do you know if this woman, Catherine St. Croix, is still living in Philly?"

"Son, that was over 50 years ago. I'm sure she's passed since then. But, I believe her daughter still lives in the area. Her name's Annabelle Livingston. She's probably in the phone book."

Dean nodded, "Thanks." He gave James' shoulder a squeeze and headed for the motel room.

"James," Sam paused, "I'm sorry about Maryann."

James nodded, "I just wish I could have told her how much I loved her one last time."

"I know how you feel," Sam confided, "I know exactly how you feel."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Annabelle Livingston did still live in Philadelphia. She owned a wiccan shop on the other side of the city. Shortly after their conversation with James, Sam and Dean set out to find the shop.

The door to the small shop jingled happily as the brothers entered and were greeted by the scent and burning incense and candles.

"Welcome." They heard a voice called cheerfully from the back of the shop. "What can I help you boys with?" The woman stepped forward and smile at them. She was a thin woman who looked to be in her early 50's. Her slightly graying hair was twisted into dreadlocks and pulled back into a ponytail.

"Are you Annabelle Livingston?" Sam asked, taking a step further into the shop.

"Yes, I am." She replied, her eyes narrowing slightly but the smile remaining on her face.

"So your mother was Catherine St. Croix?" Sam pressed on.

"What's with the 20 questions young man." She smiled back politely.

"We need to know about your mothers' connection to Bernie Fontaine." Sam finished and waited for her reaction.

Annabelle glanced around the small shop suspiciously before gesturing for the two men to move closer. Dean and Sam walked towards the woman. Her smile had faded almost completely as she studied them. "What do you know about Bernie Fontaine?" She asked in a low voice.

"Enough." Dean replied vaguely and after seeing her look of skepticism added, "That your mother and him were heard talking a week prior to the fire."

Annabelle whipped her head around again with the same suspicious nature that she had displayed earlier. She pressed a forefinger to her lips hissing, "Shh," and then signaled for them to follow her into the back room. Dean hesitated but with a gentle push from Sam he reluctantly followed her.

She led them through a beaded curtain that separated the shop from the back room which resembled more of a living room than the bare concrete stock room that both Winchesters had expected. The room had two overstuffed couches flanking a small wooden coffee table. On the table was a plate full of blueberry muffins. Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sight of Dean's eyes lighting up at the sight of the muffins. _Bottomless pit_, he thought to himself.

"Have a seat." Annabelle gestured towards the couches as she turned her back to relight the incense on the far side of the room.

Dean plopped down and immediately grabbed a muffin. He opened his mouth to take a hearty bite only to pull it back a second later and glare at it in disgust.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked with a smile, "It's food isn't it?"

Dean shook his head, "No Sammy. When a food does this," he tapped the muffin against the coffee table causing the muffin to make a hollow sounding thud, "it's no longer food. It's weaponry." Sam stifled a laugh at the comment. Dean casually placed the muffin back on the plate and glanced over at Sam who was staring at him in disbelief.

"What?"

"I can't take you anywhere." Sam muttered.

Annabelle finished lighting the incense and took a seat on the couch across from Dean and Sam. Her smile was completely gone now. "Where did you hear about my mother?" She asked. Her hands were folded in her lap and her back was arched so that she looked like a cat perched on the edge of the couch.

"A friend." Dean responded, the emotionless tone of Annabelle's voice not scaring him.

"And why do you need to know about her relationship with Bernie Fontaine?" Annabelle remained motionless shifting her gaze between the brothers in even intervals.

"Have you ever visited The Sapphire Room?" Sam asked. Annabelle just looked at him but didn't respond. "You do know about The Sapphire Room, don't you?"

"I've heard stories." Annabelle replied.

"We think your mother was involved in what happened there." Sam stated, not really sure if this trip had been worth the while. Annabelle seemed too standoffish and he wasn't sure if he'd be willing to help. But, she was their only lead.

"My mother." Annabelle paused. Sam expected her to defend her mother but what he got was hardly a defense. "My mother was a horrible woman." Her shoulders loosened slightly as she began to relax. "While my grandmother and aunts practiced wiccan, my mother turned to black magic. People would pay her and she would put a curse on their boss, cast a spell on their ex-boyfriends or girlfriends, you know, acts of vengeance." Annabelle shook her head. "Bernie came to her and told her about a problem he was having."

"We know about his problem." Dean interjected. Annabelle nodded, not doubting their knowledge of Bernie's gambling problem. Most people who knew about Bernie knew about his extracurricular activities. It went hand in hand with the legend of The Sapphire Room itself.

"Bernie knew he was going to die." Annabelle continued, "He knew he'd never be able to make the money he needed to pay back-" Annabelle paused, twisting her hand in a circle as she tried to remember the name.

"Lucky Montgomery." Dean said.

Annabelle smiled, "You boys did your homework. Anyway, he knew Lucky was going to kill him. That's when he came to my visit my mother. I was only a little girl at the time by I remember listening outside the door as my mother cast the spell."

"The spell?" Sam shifted in his seat and leaned forward.

"My mother cast a spell on the club that would keep the people inside locked inside forever."

"So it trapped their spirits?" Dean asked.

"No," Annabelle shook her head, "It trapped their souls. It sent them into a-" Annabelle paused, her hands poised into the air as she stared off into the distance.

"Parallel universe?" Dean asked, thinking that it may have been the word Annabelle was searching for.

"No," Annabelle refocused her attention on the boys, "it's more like a time loop. They have been reliving the same night since the fire."

"The fire started the curse?" Dean asked as he turned the statement over and over in his head. He thought about his mother on the ceiling. The heat of the flames. _The fire started the curse_. If there was one statement to sum up his entire life he may have just involuntarily uttered it.

"No, Bernie's death started it." Annabelle explained. "The spell my mother cast was dependent on Bernie dying. The second he died the spell took affect. The fire is what sealed it. You see,a time loop can resemble a haunting but The Sapphire Room isn't haunted in the traditional sense."

"Wait," Dean interrupted, "If The Sapphire Room isn't haunted then how I manage to get thrown around the room by a ghost?"

Annabelle's eyes widened, "You saw Bernie?"

"I didn't really see him," Dean answered, "and how do you know it was Bernie and not just an angry ghost bouncer?"

"Bernie has all control in that place," Annabelle shifted uncomfortably as if the subject of Bernie and The Sapphire Room had suddenly caused her some kind of distress. "He's the only one aware of what's going on in the present day as well as in the time loop. He's the only one who could have seen that you were in the club."

"Which would explain how Bernie was able to attack you but the girl I saw didn't even give me a second glance." Sam reasoned.

"Exactly," Annabelle nodded, "The people who are trapped there," Annabelle paused slightly, "The day of the fire, they all died. The spell cloaked their bodies and that is what kept them trapped within the walls of The Sapphire Room. But none of them, except Bernie, know that they're dead. The only way to break the spell is to convince them that they are in fact deceased. And I assure you," Annabelle warned cautiously, "Bernie won't be to happy about it your trying to convince them of that."

Convinced that they had milked Annabelle of all the information she had, Sam and Dean thanked her and excused themselves. They had some planning to do before they returned to The Sapphire Room later that night.

As they were leaving Annabelle called after them, "Remember Bernie Fontaine won't give up The Sapphire Room without a fight and he's more dangerous now then he ever was when he was alive. Please, be careful boys."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**TBC...**

**A/N: I hope people are understanding what's going on with the time loop. I know it gets a little confusing but hey, what haunting isn't right?**


	4. Seance, Schmeance

**Disclaimer**: Don't sue, I'm not claiming any ownership to Supernatural.

**Warnings: **Some language. It's not bad but if you have sensitive ears, oops.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Chapter Four**_

Sam raked his fingers through his hair, "I don't know how we're gonna pull this one off."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked as he sat on the edge of the motel room bed, loading the shotgun. "We go in there, talk to a few ghosts, kick some dead club owners ass, wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am, we're knocking back drinks at the bar by midnight." Dean smiled.

"I'm being serious, Dean."

"So am I." Dean answered with a grin.

Sam shook his head. "We've gotta think this thing through. There's no body, so we can't burn the bones and if I know anything about spells, a simple exorcism won't work and even if it did, we can't guarantee that getting rid of Bernie will free the other spirits."

"Annabelle said he have to talk to the ghosts." Dean reminded him.

"How?" Sam asked sarcastically, "If the ghosts are trapped in this time loop and can't see that we're there, then how do you expect to sit down and have a conversation with them; Inform them that while they think they've simply been dancing the night way, they've actually been dead for the past 59 years?"

After a minute of contemplation Dean stated, "Okay, so it might be a _little_ tricky."

Sam glanced down at his fathers' journal that was spread out in front of him. He leafed through it carefully before coming across a page that caught his eye. "What about like a," Sam paused as he studied the page, " a séance."

"A séance?" Dean asked with a sour face, "You mean you want us to go in there, light some candles, do some chanting, recite a little bit of the 'we come in peace' speech? Come on Sammy. That's so cliché."

"_You_ got any bright ideas, Rambo?" Sam shot back.

"Well," Dean glanced around the room, pursing his lips as if in deep thought, "not exactly but-"

Dean left the sentence hanging in the air for what seemed like eternity. "But what?" Sam finally asked after Dean failed to elaborate.

"Come on Sammy. A séance?" Dean was staring at Sam skeptically, "We're hunters not Ghost Whisperers."

"Well sometimes you gotta whisper to the ghosts to make them come out and play."

Dean rubbed his head where it had connected with the desk, "They already came out to play," he muttered, "They're just not playing nice."

Sam glanced at Dean, "Oh, right. Sorry. Maybe we can go back to Annabelle's, see if she knows anything about séances." Sam suggested.

Dean shrugged, "Dude, you're in charge of this one." Sam rolled his eyes and grabbed his coat.

"Then let's go."

Dean sighed before grabbing his own coat and following Sam to the car.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Annabelle was mildly surprised to see the boys return so soon. She was even more surprised by their inquiry. She reluctantly admitted that she did know how to perform a séance but she refused to step foot into The Sapphire Room to assist them in performing it. Instead she provided them the supplies they would need, gave them a brief lesson on how to properly perform the séance and then sent them on their way. Before they left she warned them again about the severity of the situation they were about to step into and wished them luck. They thanked her and headed off towards The Sapphire Room.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Again, Dean managed to make it to The Sapphire Room in record time. Sam hadn't decided if it was because Dean was eager to get the job done with or if he just really liked driving fast. He figured it had more to do with the latter.

Sam rooted through the bag that Annabelle had supplied them with. It contained five candles, incense, and an incantation book. Although Sam had been immersed in the supernatural practically since birth he had never had to perform a séance and had expected a more elaborate set up. When Annabelle had handed him the small bag he had looked at her awkwardly expecting more. But, no. She assured him that these were the only items they'd need to perform a simple séance. Annabelle promised she'd cast a protection spell for them but she wasn't sure how effective it would be once Bernie got involved. In his world, The Sapphire Room, he had all the power.

Dean whipped the car to the side of the road and threw it into park. "You ready, cupcake?" He asked with a smile as he turned to reach behind his seat for the shotgun which he had concealed there earlier. Sam shot him a look but said nothing. He kept rooting through the bag and finally convinced that he had everything he needed he looked over to Dean and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

"Good." Dean replied as he passed the shotgun to Sam who zipped it inside the pack he was holding. Dean slid out of the car and was beginning to head towards The Sapphire Room when he heard a familiar voice coming from the tail end of the car.

"Oh shit." Dean glanced over. It was Dre. He was stroking the side of the Impala, staring longingly at it. "This you?"

Dean smiled. He was never more proud of his car than when people were lusting after it.

"Yeah, this is me." He replied with a goofy smile. "Beautiful ain't she."

"Dean." Sam was now standing behind Dean. His voice was all business. Dean raised his hand, signaling for Sam to wait. Sam sighed heavily. Dean never passed up an opportunity to gush over his car so in his mind, business could wait.

"Yo, Dre." Chris came jogging from around the corner before Dean and Dre had a chance to continue their conversation. "Ah shit," Chris slowed down considerably once he saw Dean and Sam, "You two decided to come back for round two?" He smiled as he walked up and stood behind Dre.

Dean nodded. He felt Sam give his jacket a small tug. He yanked his arm away and glared at Sam before silently complying. "We just can't get enough of this ghost stuff." Dean smiled. "You two wanna come?" Dean asked gesturing towards the building. He already knew the reply but was still amused at the sight of the two boys backing away from him.

"No thanks." Dre replied.

"Nah, we like our lives." Chris said, raising his hands in front of him as if to push the invitation away.

"You're choice." Dean smiled and started walking towards the alley. "Hey," he called back towards Chris and Dre. Both froze and looked at him cautiously.

"Watch my car." Dean ordered.

They both loosened up and nodded happily as Dean and Sam disappeared into the alley.

"Hey," Dre whispered softly once Dean and Sam were out of sight, "if they don't make it out, you think my man will mind if I take his car?" Chris gave Dre a gentle push and then leaned back against the Impala, waiting for their return or their blood-curdling screams. Whichever came first.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean and Sam reentered the building the same way they did earlier in the day. They had left the door slightly ajar with the dumpster rolled in front so that no passerby would be able to easily recognize the disturbance. Not that many people were prone to pass by in this back alley anyway but it was a precautionary measure nonetheless.

The hallway was much darker this time than it had been earlier in the day so the flashlights were more necessary. The brothers found their way into the ballroom with little trouble. Dean stole a glance into office as they passed. The files which he had intended to investigate were still strewn haphazardly around the corner of the room where he had been thrown. He peeled his eyes away from the room, anger still present in his expression. He'd deal with Bernie soon enough.

Sam entered the ballroom and walked towards the area of the floor that had the most space, right in front of the stage. It had once probably been used as a dance floor but today it would be used to perform an amateur séance. He emptied the contents of the bag in a heap and began to arrange the items the way that Annabelle had instructed him.

"Wait," Dean said when he saw the way Sam was setting up the candles. "Didn't Annabelle say to put them in a triangle." Sam stopped and looked at the formation. They were in a perfectly proportioned circular form.

"Dean," Sam sighed as he held the last candle inched from the ground, "she gave us five candles. What kinda triangle has five points?" Dean thought for a second.

"Well, maybe she gave us two too many." Dean offered.

Sam looked up at him before slowly placing the last candle on the ground, "It's a circle." Dean shrugged.

"Whatever, and when no ghosts materialize, I'll be right there to tell you 'I told you so'." Dean pulled a small lighter out of his pocket and began lighting the candles, muttering 'triangle' after each one. Sam was too busy setting up the incense to notice Dean's sarcastic rambling.

"Okay," Sam said, drawing Dean's attention. "We have to sit across from each other and one of us has to read." Sam lifted the book and offered it to Dean. Dean shook his head.

"You're the psychic wonder," he reminded Sam, "maybe they'll listen to you more than me."

"Don't call me psychic wonder." Sam complained.

"I'll stop calling you one, when you stop being one." Dean cracked.

"Whatever." Sam gave up trying to go toe to toe with Dean and picked up the book. He flipped to the page that Annabelle had dog-eared and studied it. "You have to really concentrate." He locked eyes with Dean. Dean nodded. He wasn't really into the idea of having a séance but since he had been dragged into it he decided to do his best to make the séance as successful as possible.

Sam began reading the words on the page. It was something to the effect of 'we beseech you forth' and 'we're here to help'. But somewhere between 'we know the truth' and 'lend us your guidance' Dean was forced to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood in order to contain the laughter that had already begun to shine in his eyes. In his mind, it was all ridiculous rambling.

Sam, however, was taking the séance very seriously. His eyes were closed and his legs were twisted in front of him. It almost looked like he was meditating. Dean swallowed back his laughter and closed his eyes, deciding to really try to concentrate this time. As soon as his eyes were closed, something began happening inside of him. He could still hear Sam's words but his head had begun to throb uncontrollably.

"Sam." He managed to squeak out but his words were drowned by Sam's continuous chanting. He opened his eyes but the throbbing remained, drilling into his brain, destroying all conscious thought. He stared straight ahead and instead of attempting to combat the pain, he focused on it. Between the throbs he heard a voice growing louder and louder and louder. Finally, after it seemed that the pain was unbearable the words became audible.

"Get out!" It screamed. It was the same voice from earlier. Dean jumped to his feet, the pain immediately forgotten.

"Sam, he's here!" Dean shouted, searching the room for any trace of the phantom club owner. Sam's eyes flew open and he looked at his brother.

"Where?" He asked, looking around.

"He was in my head." Dean replied, calming down a little, suddenly aware of just how crazy he must have looked.

"In your head?" Sam asked as he rose to his feet.

"I could feel," Dean paused, "pain. Like he was in my head. Why does this man keep messing with me and not you?" As the words left his mouth Dean soon regretted them. The flame of the candle closest to Sam suddenly doubled in size sending Sam reeling backwards away from the raging fire.

"Whoa!" He cried out as the candle nearly burnt him. The flame quickly returned to its normal size as if nothing had happened. Sam stared at it for a second but before he had a chance to fully recover a table from across the room was launched at him, knocking him off his feet.

"SAM!" Dean yelled but he too was soon battling an airborne table. He managed to sidestep it but wasn't so lucky when a chair followed suite and struck him in the legs. He fell backwards against the wall but managed to stay on his feet. He felt a dull throb in his ankle but he pushed the pain from his mind as he looked around for his brother.

"SAM!" He called again.

"I'm fine!" Sam called back as he got to his feet and dusted himself off. He rubbed his ribs unconsciously as he bent down to recover the incantation book.

"You can't help them!" A voice shouted at him as the book slide out of his reach. Sam was then hurled forward and landed hard against the same wall that Dean was propped up against. All the air was forced out of his lungs at the harsh impact of the landing. Dean reached out a hand to steady Sam but it was Dean who really needed the steadying. His legs had been weakened from the hit and Sam could tell they were shaking mildly. He helped a protesting Dean into a seated position, concealing his own discomfort as he did so.

"You alright?" Sam asked.

"I'm fine." Dean lied as he rubbed his sore ankle.

"Yeah, me too." Sam lied back. His ribs felt like they were on fire from the table and from the collision with the wall but it was nothing he couldn't handle. As long as this voice gave them a chance to recover, both Winchesters would be in fighting condition in a matter of minutes. Unfortunately, they had no such luck.

"You can't help them!" the voice yelled at them again.

"You said that already!" Dean barked back.

Sam ignored him and addressed the invisible enemy. "Yeah?" He pushed himself away from the wall, "Try us!"

"You should be more concerned with helping yourself." The voice commanded. As he said it the walls around the ballroom began to slowly change. Elegant golden light fixtures began to appear on the walls and brighten the room. The wallpaper was gradually returned to its original color and flawless condition. The chandelier, which had been broken and looked like it would fall at any minute was now piecing itself back together and light began to glisten from it. The sheets that covered the tables disappeared and the table were lined up and fitted with centerpieces.

"What the hell is going on?" Dean muttered as he began to hear music echo throughout the room. Blues.

Then there was laughter.

And talking.

People, dressed in traditional 1940's clothing began to corporealize in front of them. The room had completely transformed from a dank, decrepit, collapsing structure to its original stature and beauty, complete with a 100 trapped souls unaware of their current predicament.

"Dude," Dean whispered as he inched back up the wall and stood next to Sam, "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

"No," they heard the same voice reply only this time the owner of the voice began to appear in front of them. He was a thin man in his mid to late thirties. He was wearing black pinstripe pants with a matching vest overtop a white dress shirt. His hair was slicked back and a twisted smile was curled onto his mouth. He dangled a gold pocket watch in front of him and swung it back and forth as he studied the two men leaning painfully against the wall.

He grinned cruelly and happily. "You're in my world now, boys."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**TBC….**

**Reviews are always welcome :)**


	5. Circa 1947

**Disclaimers:** Nope, not mine.

**A/N**: I woke up to an inbox full of reviews and it made my day. Thanks for the reviews, keep 'em coming.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Chapter Five**_

The room was alive with motion. People were happily dancing to the soft sounds of a female singer on stage, some were posted up near the bar, ordering drinks and small talking with the bartender while others sat in swarms at the small tables talking about the days events; a day that ended over 50 years ago. None of them noticed the interplay between the club owner and the two men pressed up against the wall.

Dean's first instinct was to knock that stupid grin of off Bernie's face. While the formal introductions hadn't been made Dean was positive that this man was in fact the infamous Bernie Fontaine. That fact alone caused him to refrain from his initial inclination to pop Bernie in the face. He wasn't scare but if Bernie really was as powerful as both James and Annabelle had warned then he didn't want to put both he and Sam in imminent danger. At least not yet.

Bernie inched forward. Dean ignored him as best he could and whispered to Sam, "Can you move?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded, his eyes trained on Bernie.

"Good," Dean replied, "Then I'm about to say something I never wanted to have to say."

Sam gave him a puzzled glance.

"Run!" Dean shouted. Without hesitation Sam charged towards the side of the club with the stage fixed to it. There was a door next to the stage that he hadn't noticed before but seeing as it was his closest exit, he bolted towards it, silently praying that it was open and led to some kind of safe haven. Or at the least, not a dead-end. He crashed through the door with Dean following close behind. Once they were both safely inside Dean slammed the door shut and twisted the lock into place.

"Which way?" Sam breathed out.

They were standing in the middle of a long hallway and as Dean studied the possible escape routes he saw a large spiral staircase to his left. In most cases Dean would see running up the stairs as an invitation for entrapment but considering that the other part of the hallway looked to lead absolutely nowhere, he figured that the stairs would be his best option.

"Stairs!" He ordered.

They both turned and ran for the staircase. Once they had climbed the stairs they found themselves in a large room that housed what looked like extra tables and chairs, all covered with white sheets. The room had six windows which provided just enough moonlight for Dean and Sam to be able to see where they were going but not enough for them to make out all the objects in the room. Two of the windows faced the alley, two faced the street in front of the club and the last two provided an overhead view into the club itself.

Dean moved towards the windows facing the street, tripping over miscellaneous objects as he went.

"Ah, that's just great!" he growled once he reached the window. "My cars gone!" He whipped his head around, searching for sympathy from Sam.

Sam sighed, attempting to suppress a laugh, "Dean, it's 1947. Your car doesn't even exist yet."

Dean smiled slightly, a feeling of self consciousness over powering him at having just made such a dumb comment. "Yeah," he nodded, "I knew that." After a moment of thought Dean added, "Wait, technically we don't even exist yet either but," Dean gestured at himself emphatically, "here we are. Explain that Sammy."

Sam stared at Dean for a second, pondering how exactly to answer such a dumb attempt at rational thinking. He had a distinct feeling that Dean was joking but he couldn't be sure so instead of giving his comments any more thought he just shook his head and turned to look through the window that overlooked the interior of the club.

It was apparent that no one below had noticed the disturbance that he and Dean had caused by suddenly appearing and then dashing out of the ballroom just as quick. Bernie was no longer standing by the wall where he had pinned Dean and Sam earlier but it didn't appear that Bernie had given chase either. Sam couldn't help but wonder where the man had disappeared to.

Sam stopped contemplating Bernie's whereabouts when he saw a beautiful woman walking towards the dance floor.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, gesturing for Dean to join him at the window. Dean walked towards the window and peered out to see what had peeked his brothers' interest.

"Whoa," Dean replied as he saw the woman Sam was pointing at, "She's hot."

Sam kept pointing, ignoring Dean's comment, "That's the ghost girl from earlier." Dean looked at the woman again. She was standing next to the dance floor, swaying her hips slightly as she smiled happily at a couple dancing in front of her.

"You sure?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded, "Yeah, she's a little less transparent this time but that's definitely her."

"Okay," Dean nodded, "She came to you earlier, whether it was conscious or not, so go talk to her."

"Go talk to her?" Sam asked cocking his head at the idea. "Dean, look at how we're dressed. And it's not like I can just waltz out there and strike up a conversation about the war in Iraq."

Dean chewed it over for a second, "Point taken." His eyes lit up and he smile coyly, "We could always jump two random guys and steal their clothes."

"Who are you?" Sam asked, his face twisted into a look of total disbelief, "Bugs Bunny? This isn't a cartoon Dean. You can't just steal people clothes and disguise yourself. Besides, Bernie Fontaine isn't exactly Elmer Fudd. He won't be fooled that easily."

Dean shrugged, "It was a suggestion."

"A dumb one." Sam muttered as he looked back through the window at the girl. She had begun to walk away from the dance floor towards the front of the club. Sam looked to his left. There was a second set of stairs next to the windows facing the street. He could cut her off in a concealed part of the club and wouldn't have to expose himself to the rest of the club-goers. Convincing one ghost that she was indeed a ghost probably wouldn't break the spell but it was a start and could possibly result in the weakening of Bernie's powers. They hadn't been exposed to the full extent of Bernie's powers just yet but if he had the power to bring two live humans to a ghost infested time loop then who knows what else the man had in store for them.

Sam looked back down into the ballroom and saw that the girl was almost out of sight. "I'm gonna cut her off." He said as he headed towards the second set of stairs.

"Good," Dean replied, "You go do that and I'll go talk to Maryann." Dean said it as coolly as possible but as expected it still managed to catch Sam's attention. He stopped in his tracks and looked back at Dean.

"Maryann?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Dean answered, "James said she was singing the night of the fire so I'm assuming the girl on stage is Maryann." Sam glanced down at the stage. The young woman who had previously been belting her heart out was now stepping off stage, presumably taking a much needed break.

Sam nodded and started towards the stairs again.

"Sam," Sam turned to look at Dean, "Meet me back here in an hour." Sam nodded and started walking again only to have Dean call him back.

"Sam," Sam sighed and looked at Dean, his patience wavering, "No matter what you do, don't sleep with her 'cause I don't know all the details it but I'm pretty sure that would be one messed up case of necrophilia."

Sam laughed, "Shut up Dean." Dean smiled and watched Sam rush down the stairs before he headed off in the direction of the ballroom hoping to catch up with Maryann before Bernie caught up with him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The girl was leaning against the door jam as Sam came down the stairs. Her back was to him and Sam hesitated before attempting to get her attention. He was unsure how to address her without giving away the fact that he wasn't from the area, let alone the time period and jumping right into the "hi, I'm from the future, you're a ghost and once you believe that we can all move on" conversation seemed slightly ambiguous.

He decided to start with a simple introduction and play it by ear from there.

"Excuse me," he called as he walked up behind her. She turned around and looked at him. He froze at the sight of her brown eyes staring into his. She was exactly as he remembered her and that alone freaked him out because now this was no longer a ghost he was looking at; she was a girl.

"Yes?" she smiled politely at him.

"Um," his mind was rushing with things to say, things not to say, things he'd have to explain and with so much going on in his mind he could barely manage a simple introduction. Finally he managed to smile and say, "I'm Sam."

She nodded and smiled, "Hello Sam, I'm Jo."

"Short for Joanne?" Sam asked trying as hard as possible to prolong the small talk in an attempt to postpone the inevitable.

"No, it's short for Josephine." Jo replied sweetly.

Sam smiled, "That's a very pretty name."

"Thank you." Jo replied.

Sam quickly racked his brain for something to say, anything to say, but every sliver of small talk that came to mind would make absolutely no sense when talking to someone of the 40's. This led to a long awkward moment of silence.

"You dress very unusual, Sam." Jo finally concluded as she gave Sam a once over. Sam looked down at himself and subconsciously soothed out the wrinkles in his brown suede jacket. "Most gentlemen wear tuxedos at a place like this."

"Well," Sam paused, "Mine's at the cleaners." Sam said simply adding a sideways smile, hoping to lighten the conversation and deflect any more questions that couldn't be answered just yet. "I saw you by the dance floor." Sam stated, quickly changing the subject. "Why weren't you dancing?"

Jo smiled, "I have no one to dance with at the moment. I came here with my sister and her boyfriend, or should I say fiancé." Jo's smile grew wider, "He just proposed to her, here, tonight, can you believe it?" She peeked around the corner and onto the dance floor where the couple she had been watching were still happily dancing, oblivious to anything else going on around them. Oblivious to the fact that the singer was gone and the band was only making a mild attempt at concocting a beat to dance to.

They did look happy though.

"They're going to have a long and happy life together." Jo added, still beaming as she watched her sister and her fiancé dance.

_Long, yes. Life, not so much_. Sam thought as he watched Jo watching them.

"So, what brings you to The Sapphire Room?" Jo asked as she turned back to look at Sam.

"Bernie Fontaine actually." Sam replied, happy at having a question he could actually answer honestly.

"You're friends?" She asked.

Sam shook his head, "Not exactly."

"Good." Jo nodded, "That man, there's something odd about that man."

Sam nodded. It seems Bernie's oddities hadn't gone unnoticed by the people in the club and now seemed as good a time as any to mention just why the man was acting odd. Hopefully, she'd believe him and not run away and completely ruin his chances of convincing the other ghosts.

"Jo, can I ask you a question?" Jo nodded happily. Sam took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Dean crept down the spiral staircases he heard voices in the hallway. He ducked into a small nook to the side of the hall and pressed his back to the wall.

"I need to talk to Mr. Fontaine." He heard a female voice pleading.

"Not now Maryann, he's busy." Came the stern reply. Dean peeked around the corner and saw the female singer talking to a burly man, wearing the same kind of ensemble that Bernie had been seen in earlier. The door which Dean had locked behind he and Sam earlier was now hanging from the hinges, obviously having been busted down by the aforementioned burly man. The man was pacing the hallway angrily with Maryann right on his heels.

Dean pushed himself back against the wall as the man began to charge towards his hiding place.

"Tony, please." Maryann begged. Dean listened. The footsteps had suddenly stopped. He peered around the corner and saw that Tony was now facing Maryann. Neither of them seemed to notice his presence but he still ducked further into nook to avoid detection.

"I told you he's busy." Tony replied his voice filled with annoyance. Obviously, Maryann had been pestering for quite some time now.

"Who's busy?" Dean heard Bernie's voice suddenly join the mix. At the sound of his voice Dean glanced out from his hiding spot once more.

"Boss," Tony started, "I told her you were-"

"What?" Bernie smiled, "Busy? I'm never too busy for my favorite singer. What seems to be the problem Maryann?"

Maryann sauntered towards him. She lowered her voice but it was still loud enough for both Dean and presumably Tony to hear. "Mr. Fontaine, I need to talk to you." She hesitated, "I found a book…in your office about…spells, and there's a symbol drawn in the corner of the ladies restroom…a strange symbol and…you've been talking to Catherine St. Croix." Maryann paused as Bernie's face clouded over with a fierce look. "What's going on Bernie?"

"You've been snooping, Maryann?" He said it more as a statement than a question but Maryann nodded anyway.

"There's something strange going on Bernie. I can feel it." She reached out to take his hand, "Please tell me what you're doing."

Bernie gently patted Maryann's hand and smiled, "I told you not to interfere."

"I'm not interfering," she whispered as she stared at Bernie's hand slowly tightening around hers. "Please," she gasped as she tried to pull her hand away form Bernie's tight grip, "I just want to help you."

"You want to help me, sweetheart?" Bernie asked as he loosened his grip, "Stay out of my business and no one will get hurt." He finally let go of her hand and she whipped it back, cradling it gently in her arm while looking at him in horror. He looked over her shoulder and gestured for Tony to move forward. "Tony," he smiled, "Why don't you take Maryann to the bar for a drink." He smiled down at Maryann, "Okay?"

Maryann nodded weakly as she allowed Tony to guide her out of the hallway and in the direction of the bar. Dean listened as the footsteps disappeared. He hesitated, waited for any signs of movement. When he heard none he looked out and saw the empty hallway.

He knew that talking to Maryann at this moment would be next to impossible especially now that Tony was with her but he knew that when the time came she'd be easier to convince. She was already starting to question Bernie's motives and that would attribute greatly to Dean and Sam's mission.

Carefully Dean crept around the corner and started walking towards the broken door. Before he managed to get halfway towards the door he heard a voice behind him.

"Mr. Winchester, so glad you decided to come out and play." Dean spun around and was face to face with Bernie Fontaine. He knew the hallway had just been empty. How did Bernie manage to creep up behind him unnoticed?

"Bernie!" Dean smiled as if he had just encountered an old friend.

With unnatural strength Bernie slammed Dean against the wall. Dean didn't have a chance to react or even spit of a quite remark before Bernie had his hand pressed firmly against his forehead, forcing Dean's head against the wall.

Normally Dean would have given the man the old Winchester 1-2 punch and been able to overpower him in a heartbeat but something was wrong. His head had begun to pound, the same way it had during the séance and suddenly Dean forgot how to move his arms, how to run, how to form words and all he could do was stand helplessly against that wall as Bernie's touch increased the pounding in his head. The pressure in his head increased and he could hear a steady heartbeat in his ear. His last thought before a curtain of black descended over his eyes was '_at least I know my heart's still beating'_.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**TBC….**

**The action picks up in the next chapter so I hope you're ready.**


	6. Memories 2 Go

**Disclaimer**: Sadly, I do not own Supernatural but in a matter of weeks I will own season one of Supernatural on DVD :-)

**A/N**: Mild writers block held this chapter up for awhile so sorry for the wait.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Chapter Six**_

Bernie smiled happily as he pressed harder against the young mans forehead. Dean's body began to go limp and as it did so Bernie pressed his free hand firmly against Dean's chest in order to keep him upright. Had Dean's eyes been open he would have had the urge to sock Bernie for that smug look imprinted on his face.

But Dean's eyes weren't open. He wasn't unconscious, though. No, unconciousness felt different. This was a new sensation. He could still think clearly but his body refused to obey any of the simplest commands his brain was screaming at it to do. At the moment his brain seemed to be the only thing left that he still had any control of but as Bernie's grip tightened around his forehead that too slowly gave way.

His head began to pound harder and he felt a spinning sensation begin to derive him of all conscious thought. Suddenly his felt his memories being pulled out, being yanked from his head.

Seeing Maryann, being brought to 1947, talking to James, talking to Annabelle, coming to The Sapphire Room, and then it went further, getting Sam from Stanford, his father going missing, his years of training, his mother's death. All the memories were fading, becoming fuzzy and then slowly being forgotten all together.

Dean couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't breathe and then without warning he felt his body fall forward and he landed with a thud on the ground. Immediately all the memories came rushing back, the intense pain in his head was gone and he was left gasping for air.

Bernie reeled backwards. He backed himself against the wall as a sudden feeling of weakness overtook him. He couldn't see straight and his hand, the one that had been touching Dean's forehead felt like it was on fire. He glared at his hand and saw that a small burn had begun to form on his palm. He pressed his uninjured hand to his head and attempted to rub away the pounding in his head but it didn't work. The pain was still there, tucked inside his head, unwilling to ease up.

Bernie couldn't understand it. He had done this numerous times before. He had taken them from their time, brought them here, destroyed their consciousness, taken their memories, and then lastly, taken their lives. After all, they deserved it for coming into his club uninvited, attempting to reopen it without his permission, defacing it with graffiti and now they were trying to tear it down. Most recently he had taken a young woman named Shanice. She had challenged him by coming into his club and proclaiming that she didn't believe in ghosts. But she had fallen easily. Had she remembered there encounter, she'd be a believer now. Bernie had planned on doing the same thing to this boy and the one that had accompanied him but there was something different about this one. He was stronger mentally and physically than the others. The walls surrounding his mind were strong, too strong. He wasn't the average victim. No, this one had been trained and conditioned to deflect this kind of mental attack. This was going to be a lot more difficult than Bernie had originally anticipated.

Dean struggled to get to his feet. His energy was returning to him quicker than he had imagined. Whatever Bernie had done had worn off within seconds of Bernie releasing him. Dean braced himself against the wall until his breathing returned to normal. Once it had he noticed for the first time that Bernie was leaning against the opposite wall, slightly bent over, holding his forehead. Dean decided to use Bernie's weakened state to his advantage. He pushed himself off the wall and charged Bernie, slamming him to the ground. Bernie didn't have a second to react before Dean was on top of him, using his face as a punching bag. Bernie attempted to deflect the hits but his energy had yet to fully return. Dean cranked his fist back to give Bernie one finally hit when he heard the slow click of a revolver from behind him.

"Get up." He heard Tony order.

"Shit." Dean muttered as he raised his arms slowly and got to his feet. Once he was free of Dean, Bernie rolled over and coughed slowly trying to regain his composure. Dean had managed to split his lip and a small bruise was forming under his left eye. Dean looked on happily, taking pride in his handiwork but instead of displaying that pride he stood emotionless in between Tony and Bernie and watched as Bernie began to rise to his feet.

"This one of the ones you were looking for?" Tony asked holding Dean at gunpoint. Bernie nodded and wiped the blood from his lip as he studied Dean. He kept his distance as he did so though. Dean noticed it and couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph ring through him. The man had been obviously been shook and was now displaying his uneasiness with the situation. His attempt at brainwashing Dean or whatever that thing had been had backfired and now Bernie's 'Big Bad Wolf' routine had simmered down dramatically.

Dean waited, expecting Bernie to retaliate and hit him back but instead he just stared at Dean with a fiery look in his eyes. Dean clenched his jaw and returned the stare.

"Bring him." Bernie finally ordered as he walked past Dean and started down the hallway in the opposite direction of the spiral staircase. Tony grabbed Dean by the back of the neck and jabbed the gun nozzle into the small of his back, giving him a slight push. Dean reluctantly started to walk down the hallway behind Bernie.

Dean gritted his teeth at the amount of manhandling but redirected his annoyance towards Bernie who was stomping angrily in from of him. "What's the matter, Bern?" Dean asked once he was close enough to catch Bernie's attention, "You were all big and bad when you were a ghostly, phantom thingy, throwing people into desks and shit but now, it seems you're losing your touch."

"What's he talking about, boss?" Tony asked as he tightened his grip on the back of Dean's neck.

"Nothin'." Bernie barked, "This boy is clearly deranged. You saw how he attacked me."

Dean smiled, "You mean you didn't even tell your own henchman?"

"Shut up!" Bernie yelled at him, Dean's cockiness and Bernie's lack of control over him was suddenly getting the best of him.

Dean caught a glimpse of Bernie's expression as Tony pushed him further down the hallway. The man was seething with anger and Dean was basking in it. He could care less that he was technically the man's hostage at the moment; all he cared about was that he had gotten his hits in and now had all the leverage in the conversation.

"You know that's cold Bernie." Dean continued, "Tony's out doing all your dirty work in the club but he doesn't even know what you did to him?"

"I said shut up!" Bernie yelled again but this time his fist followed the order and Dean felt his head snap to the side. Tony tightened his grip on Dean's neck once again causing him to look Bernie straight in the eye once he recovered from the hit. Bernie was grinning proudly at the one meager hit he had given Dean. Dean, however, shattered his confidence by cracking a smile of his own.

"You know for someone who has so much power," Dean smirked, "I never expected you to punch like a bitch." The smile slowly melted off of Bernie's face as Dean continued to shoot him that sideways grin. Bernie clenched his fist and jammed it as hard as he could into Dean's stomach. Dean didn't see it coming and was forced to double over and grab his stomach in order to ease the sudden burst of pain. Tony had dropped his hold on Dean but was still hovering behind him in case Dean decided to try and run. But running wasn't on Dean's mind right now. Bernie may not have been a strong man but considering he was wearing three heavy rings, the hit was effective enough to leave Dean momentarily stunned.

"Was that better, Mr. Winchester?" Bernie asked sarcastically. A small grunt was the only response he received from Dean. "Good." Bernie smiled and then addressed Tony. "Take him to the office and tie him up."

Tony renewed his grip of Dean and beginning pushing him towards the hallway followed by Bernie but none of them noticed the small set of eyes watching them from down the hall. Peering out from behind a long forgotten doorway was Maryann, a look of disgust planted on her face. She knew Bernie had been up to something.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Dean?" Sam called as he jogged up the stairs into the attic room. He stopped short when he saw the empty room. "Dean?" he called again. But there was still nothing. Sam didn't allow himself to panic. His confrontation with Jo had been shorter than expected so it's possible that Dean had just had better luck with Maryann and hadn't found his way back to the attic yet. Sam was mildly disappointed that he had not had the same luck with Jo. As soon as he had spit out the question about believing in ghosts Jo's sister had pranced over and dragged her away, begging for her to dance with them. Jo had invited Sam to come along but considering that he had better things to do than dance for eternity he kindly declined. He watched them dance for a while before deciding to go back to the attic and meet up with Dean.

He glanced anxiously at his watch. Dean was supposed to have shown up fifteen minutes ago and it wasn't like Dean to be late. Sam headed towards the spiral staircase and peeked down. He couldn't see anything but he heard voices. One distinct voice caught his attention. It was Dean. Sam listened for a minute. He could only hear bits and pieces of the conversation but it became clear that Dean was taunting someone.

_This can't be good_. Sam crept further down the stairs and was met with the sound of his brother's winded gasp for air. Bernie was standing next to Dean smiling at his discomfort. Sam felt the anger bubble inside of him. He started down the hall, creeping the best he could even though everything inside of him told him to run and save his big brother but he wasn't willing to announce his presence just yet and allow himself to be captured as well. Then he'd be no help to anyone. As he got closer, surprisingly still unnoticed he saw the bigger man grab Dean and force him down the hallway behind Bernie.

Out of habit Sam attempted to call his brothers name but before he got the name out he felt a hand clamp down over his mouth and trap the words inside.

"Shh!" The owner of the hand hissed. Sam pulled the hand away and spun around to face his assailant. Sam was speechless when he saw that he was facing a beautiful woman in her mid 20's with coffee brown skin and hypnotic hazel eyes. Sam immediately recognized her as the singer Dean was supposed to have been talking to.

"Maryann?" Sam asked. Maryann nodded.

"How'd you know my name?" She asked but Sam was too busy looking behind him down the hallway to bother to answer. Bernie, Dean and the man holding him had disappeared around a corner.

"I have to get my brother." He stated, not even thinking about telling Maryann about Bernie. While he did think it'd weaken Bernie's powers he didn't think they'd weaken in enough time to be able to help Dean and at the moment that was what was of the most importance. He turned and started charging down the hall but Maryann caught his arm and stopped him.

"What?" Sam asked angrily.

"You can't just go rushing in there," Maryann insisted.

"He's got my brother!" Sam shouted, "I'll do whatever I can." Sam started moving again but Maryann called after him.

"Then think with your head, not with your heart." Sam stopped and looked back at her. "If you rush in there Bernie _will_ overpower you." Sam knew that Maryann right. Rushing in unknowing would result in both of them being incapacitated. He turned and walked back towards her.

"What do you know about Bernie?" he asked.

Sam could see the hint of fear in Maryann's eyes as she began to talk, "I know that that man's been messing with unnatural forces." Maryann looked moved closer to Sam and lowered her voice, "I know that his behaviors become more erratic lately and tonight people who shouldn't be here have been showing up here out of nowhere with no memory of who they are or how they got here." She pointed through the door that looked out into the ballroom, "You see those people?" Sam looked and saw a group of black men and woman standing together by the bar. "People like that, people like me, don't go to clubs with white folk unless they're entertaining but they're here and no one seems to care. And there's more like them, white, black, brown, just turning up."

Sam's eyes widened, "You think Bernie's behind it?"

Maryann nodded, "But I don't know how or why and it's starting to scare me."

"Listen, me and my brother are here to help but if I don't get to him soon-" Sam didn't finish the sentence. He wasn't sure what would happen if he didn't get to Dean soon and he didn't even want to think about it at all.

"I'll help you." Maryann said. Sam looked down the hall thoughtfully before finally turning and looking at Maryann.

"You got a plan?" Sam asked.

Maryann walked towards him, "We'll need a distraction."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean sat silently in a chair in Bernie's office watching Bernie and Tony as they conversed near the door. He twisted his hands awkwardly trying to test the strength of his bonds but Tony had tied them far tighter than they needed to be and had allowed no room for give. Bernie cast a sideways glance at Dean and smiled at his futile attempt at an escape.

He placed a hand on Tony's shoulder and said loud enough for Dean to hear, "Go get the brother." Dean clenched his jaw tightly in an attempt at discouraging his features from displaying any outward concern but inside his stomach was churning. He had faith in Sam but all the faith in the world wouldn't be able to save Sam from a bullet. Tony tucked the pistol into waistband and covered the handle with his vest. Then he turned and headed out into the hall leaving Dean alone with Bernie.

Bernie walked past Dean and casually leaned against his desk smiling at Dean cynically. Dean didn't want to question how Bernie had known his name or how he had known that he and Sam were brothers but he was curious. Bernie's powers seemed to be becoming more and more sporadic and Dean was unsure what the source of his power actually was. The spell was the start but there had to be something else that was sustaining the power.

Bernie walked and stood next to Dean's chair. He stared straight ahead as he lifted his hand and placed it back onto Dean's forehead. Dean tried to pull his head away but Bernie grabbed the back of Dean's head and held hid head steady. Bernie tightened his grip but Dean unlike last time, Dean felt nothing. He heard Bernie begin to gasp. He released Dean's head and took a few staggering steps backwards.

Bernie turned his hand over and looked at the reddened burn on his palm, "What are you?"

"Stubborn." Dean pushed the word out through clenched teeth.

"I'm not finished with you yet." He said without looking up from his hand, "Maybe you're brother will fall faster than you," he smiled and looked over at Dean, "Then you won't be far behind."

"You talk a good game," Dean pointed out, "but if you're gonna kill me why not just do it."

"I don't kill people Mr. Winchester, whatever would give you that idea?" Bernie grinned.

"I don't know, maybe the fire or the fact that Lucky Montgomery was killed in this very office and no one knows how it happened."

"Oh well, Lucky was different. He shot me so I figured it was only right to return the favor. An eye for an eye. I'm sure you can understand that logic, _Dean_." Bernie pushed himself off the desk and began to pace in front of Dean, "The fire, the fire was needed."

"In whose eyes Bernie?" Dean asked, "You think those people out there wanted to die?"

"It had to be done." Bernie muttered to himself. Just as Dean was about to open his mouth and tell Bernie just how off his rocker he really sounded Tony came rushing back into the room. Dean was pleased to see that he wasn't hauling Sam along with him.

"Uh, boss." Bernie's head snapped up and he glared at Tony.

"What?" Bernie shouted.

"There's something going on in the ballroom that I think you should see, er, uh, hear." Bernie cast a suspicious glance at Dean.

"Don't go anywhere." He taunted as he turned to follow Tony out of the office. As soon as Bernie was gone Dean began pulling at the ropes trying to loosen them.

"C'mon you son of a bit-"

"Who ya talking to?" Dean heard a familiar voice ask.

He spun his head around and looked at the door to see Sam casually waltzing into the room. He walked to Dean's chair, knelt down behind and started working on the ropes.

"Damn, what took you so long?" Dean asked, "I told you not to get busy with that ghost girl."

"And I told you to be careful." Sam quipped.

"I was careful, I just didn't take Bernie's Jedi-mind tricks into account."

Sam stopped working for a second, "Jedi-mind tricks?"

"I'll explain later." Dean replied, "What did you use as a distraction anyway?"

"I uh, met Maryann when I was looking for you and I sorta taught her the lyrics to "I Like Big Butts."

Sam undid the last knot and Dean pulled his hands free, "Wait," Dean rose to his feet and turned to face Sam, "you have a 1940's blues singer out there singing Sir Mix-a-lot?"

Sam shrugged, "It worked didn't it?"

Dean laughed, "Guess so."

"Come on, we gotta get out of here. I don't think Bernie's gonna be too happy with Maryann's choice of music."

"Hang on," Dean said as he began riffling through Bernie's desk and picked up a small revolver that Bernie had hidden in a side drawer. He smiled down at the gun before tucking it into his waistband.

"So you talked to Maryann?" Dean asked as he came back around the desk.

"Yeah," Sam nodded, "Get this; we're not the first people who Bernie has brought to his time. Apparently he's done it quite a few times. He somehow makes them forget their pasts so they can't tell anyone else about what really happened. Any idea why or how he could do that?"

Dean's brain started spinning. He thought about Bernie messing with his memories and about how Bernie didn't kill him outright. "Sammy, I think I have a plan."

"You gonna fill me in on it." Sam asked as Dean headed towards the office door.

"Eventually." Dean smiled as he stepped into the hallway. He had a plan, he just hoped it wasn't really as crazy as it he knew it sounded.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**TBC…**


	7. Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: Still do not own them, what a shame.**

**Warning: Mild language**

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. On top of writers block kicking my ass once again, I moved back into college this week so it was kinda hectic but thanks for your patience. Hope you enjoy.**

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Chapter Seven**_

Dean crept into the hall and was surprised to hear silence. Bernie had obviously managed to bring Maryann's little distraction to an end. Dean placed a hand protectively over the revolved hidden in his waistband and started to move down the hall carefully. Unknowingly Bernie had let Dean in on a few of his weaknesses while he had been attempting to intimidate him and Dean hoped he knew enough to execute this plan without actually hurting anyone or more importantly, himself.

Dean pulled the gun out of his waistband and pushed open the cylinder. There were two bullets in the chamber. He spun the cylinder and flicked it shut.

"Just like in the old west." Dean grinned but Sam was anything but amused. He still had no idea what Dean was planning and didn't like the casualness in Dean's voice.

Dean frowned at Sam's attitude before he shoved the revolver back into his waistband.

"No, need to look so happy," He muttered as he moved slowly down the hall and listened carefully. He didn't hear Bernie's voice and he wasn't sure whether that was good or bad but that didn't stop him from moving further down the hall and peeking into the ballroom. Tony was in the process of ushering Maryann off stage to the protests of the band, the club goers, and Maryann herself. Bernie stood by idly watching but Dean could tell from the look in Bernie's eyes that he had to hurry.

"Dean, what are you gonna do?" Sam asked as he crept up behind Dean and surveyed the ballroom.

"Something crazy." Dean muttered low enough so that he thought Sam couldn't hear but Sam did hear him and was not pleased with the answer.

"What are you gonna do? Just shoot him!" Sam hissed.

"That's not the plan." Dean replied without taking his eyes of the interaction between Bernie and Maryann.

"Then what's the gun for?" Sam whispered silently willing Dean to be open and honest for once in his life.

"Insurance." Dean answered vaguely. While Bernie had been busy talking to Dean in the office, Dean had been thinking. Contemplating ways to send his ass to hell for good and make sure that he stays there. He knew an exorcism wouldn't work because in this world, Bernie wasn't a ghost. His only weakness was his inability to overpower Dean and while Dean wasn't sure how he was able to fend off Bernie's power, he was thankful for it. All that being said, Dean had determined that destroying Bernie's power source would be the only way to overpower him. He thought he knew what that power source was but 'thought' was the key word. He only hoped he was right.

Dean continued to watch Bernie and tried to drown out the sound of Sam who was angrily demanding for Dean to tell him the plan. After a few more moments of watching Bernie who looked to be at his wits end with whatever Maryann was saying, Dean started out into the ballroom and gestured for Sam to follow.

Sam did so reluctantly, still unsure as to what Dean was planning. He quickened his pace as Dean began to charge towards Bernie.

"Sam!" Sam was momentarily distracted by the sound of his name. He glanced to his side and saw that Jo had caught hold of his arm and was looking up at him in confusion.

"What's going on? Why is Mr. Fontaine taking the singer away?"

Sam looked up and saw that Bernie had indeed stopped just talking to Maryann and was now leading her away and Dean was rapidly closing in on them.

"I-uh," Sam stuttered, "I gotta go. I'll explain later." He darted quickly away from Jo who stared at him questioningly.

"Fontaine!" Dean shouted loudly causing Bernie to stop dead. He still had his hand locked around Maryann's arm and angrily tightened his grip at the sound of Dean's voice. Sam looked helplessly at Maryann who was craning her neck to stare at him pleadingly. Sam felt an intense pang of guilt at the thought of involving her in this mess. But on the other hand, she already was involved. Sam's actions had just made it worse.

Bernie turned around slowly with a goofy smile. The smile was supposed to appear menacing but it reminded Dean more of a demented clown which pissed Dean off even more. He had never really been a big fan of clowns.

"Resourceful, aren't ya?" Bernie grinned.

"What can I say," Dean grinned back, "I don't like being tied down…especially by dudes."

Bernie released a humorless laugh as he continued to stare at Dean. A crowd of club goers had begun to congregate around the standoff between the two and Dean smiled inwardly. This had been his plan. Attempting to communicate with one spirit at a time hadn't gone as swimmingly as he had hoped and therefore he figured getting all their attention at the same time might work better. It'd be a severe challenge but Dean thrived off of challenges.

Bernie cast a nervous glance at the developing crowd before pulling Maryann in front of him like a human shield and glared at Dean harshly.

"You wouldn't want to do anything stupid, now would you Mr. Winchester?" Bernie asked threateningly. And as the words left his mouth Dean heard the sound of a gasping cry from behind him. He spun around to see Tony wrapping his arm around Sam's neck and squeezing tightly. Even though Sam had about three inches on Tony, Tony was more endowed when it came to muscle mass and had obviously managed to creep up behind Sam while he was distracted and overpower him. Sam was clawing desperately at Tony's arm trying to loosen the grip.

"Sam!" Dean shouted as he took a step towards Sam but froze immediately. He spun back towards Bernie. He knew the attack on Sam was a diversionary tactic and he wasn't willing to let Bernie get away that easily. And if he was right about what Bernie's power source was then he knew that Sam was in no immediate danger. Bernie may have been crazy, but he wasn't a _complete_ idiot.

Bernie nodded towards Tony who mildly released his grip on Sam. Dean watched as Tony pulled the revolver out of his waistband and shoved the nozzle into Sam's ribcage. Sam clenched his jaw tightly and glared at Bernie. Dean stood silently and looked from Tony and Sam to Maryann and Bernie. There were now two hostages and a sea of onlookers who were all utterly confused by what they were watching. Dean could only hope that this plan worked. Otherwise, he was fucked.

Bernie smiled again, "It's your play Dean, my boy. The girl, or your brother." Dean placed his hand overtop the gun that was hidden just beneath his t-shit.

"Neither." Dean answered as he pulled out the gun and pressed it to his own temple. He heard a few gasps from the onlookers but was more intrigued with the look on Bernie's face. Bernie had gone mildly pale and his eyes had doubled in size.

"Dean, what the hell are you doing!" Sam shouted in a mix of horror and confusion. Dean kept his back to Sam and pressed the gun further to his head.

"What do ya say Bern," Dean grinned, "Does your club need a new paint job?"

Bernie swallowed sharply and replied as calmly as he could manage, "Go ahead. It'll save me the trouble." Bernie watched in anticipation.

"Really?" Dean released the safety and clenched his jaw. _This plan better work_, Dean thought as he stared at Bernie. In response to this Bernie slowly released his grip on Maryann and pushed her to the side. Maryann stumbled slightly but regained her composure quickly and joined the rest of the group as they stared at the oddly dressed man with a gun pressed against his head.

"Lower the gun, Dean." Bernie ordered.

"What's going on?" Maryann demanded.

"Remember what we talked about." Sam said, earning him a tight squeeze to the neck.

"Shut up, Maryann!" Bernie ordered, "Dean, lower…the…gun."

Dean smirked out of spite as an attempt to hide the fear that was no doubt flickering in his eyes. He inhaled sharply and pulled the trigger.

Sam stopped breathing. His heart was beating faster than he thought was humanly possible. He waited for the inevitable but there was no gunshot. There was no blood and Dean was still standing in front of him, the gun pressed to his temple. Sam exhaled heavily. Bernie's eyes were wide and he took a step towards Dean but paused when Dean's finger tightened around the trigger again. Dean was playing Russian roulette and Sam still had no idea why Bernie was acting terrified.

"Scared Bernie?" Dean asked. Bernie stared at him cautiously.

Sam suddenly realized what Dean had realized back in that office. Bernie's source of power was his victims. That was why he brought all those people into his world. That's why he brought Dean and Sam to his world. Their life source renewed his power over this world. But obviously some sort of ritual had to be preformed prior to the victim being killed which would explain why Bernie was so scared at the thought of Dean killing himself.

Bernie offered no response to Dean's question and continued to stare silently at him. "What about you Maryann? You scared?" Dean asked.

Maryann became slightly alarmed at the sound of her name. "I, uh,-" Maryann looked around as she realized that everyone was now staring at her.

"I mean, I know you're confused," Dean continued. "You're all confused and who wouldn't be on a night like this. Besides this little confrontation, you guys must have noticed the other strange things going on?

"What are you talking about?" A male voice asked from the front of the crowd.

Sam took Dean's lead. They had to expose Bernie here and now while they had everyone's attention. "Tell me you didn't notice the number of people who've spontaneously shown up tonight." Sam said as Tony tried to silence him but he was unsuccessful. Sam nodded towards a group of Black men and woman in the middle of the crowd, remembering that in the 1940's racial segregation still ran rampant, even on the east coast. "And Since when do White and Black people dance the night away together?" He asked. Sam cringed as the crowd began to move away from the Black youths almost as if noticing for the first time that there was a color differential. Although Sam knew it was a low blow in regard to social consciousness it did spark some inquisitive looks and the crowd began to look around, carefully inspecting the club and the people around them.

"Don't listen to them!' Bernie shouted. "They're both crazy!"

"And Maryann," Dean interjected, completely ignoring Bernie's ranting, "How long have you been waiting for James?"

"James?" Maryann asked as her hands flew up to the locket around her neck. She slowly slid it through her fingers and glanced down at it longingly. "James." She whispered softly. She looked back at Dean, "How do you know about James?"

"I met him." Dean stated as he looked back at Bernie, "59 years from now."

It was at that point that Bernie lunged forward and knocked Dean backwards. The gun crashed to the floor as Bernie slammed Dean against the front of the stage. Tony took a step back in order to help his boss and accidently loosened his grip on his hostage. Sam felt Tony move and took the opportunity to elbow him hard in the stomach. Tony stumbled backwards slightly and attempted to raise the gun in Sam's direction but Sam was too fast and knocked the gun out of his hand. And thus the fight was on.

Dean too was locked in battle, attempting to subdue Bernie who was putting up a better fight than Dean had expected. The crowd watched in astonishment as a ripple of whisper began to pass from person to person.

"_Did he say 59 years from now?_"

"_What's going on?_"

"_Who are they?_"

"_How long have we been hear?"_

"_How come I can't remember yesterday?_"

Dean thought he had the upper hand but just as he was about to indulge in a figurative victory lap he felt his head snap backwards and he was sent collapsing to the floor. With Dean incapasiated at the moment Bernie lunged towards the gun and before Dean had a chance to get back to his feet Bernie was standing over him with the gun pointed at his head. As Bernie looked down at Dean his mind suddenly flashed to images of him in Dean's position and Lucky Montgomery in Bernie's current position. He heard the gunshot sound in his head and gasped. He inhaled deeply and pushed the memories aside.

Dean knew Bernie wouldn't kill him but that didn't stop him from remaining on his knees. He raised his arms slightly and glared right back at Bernie.

Bernie gripped the gun tightly unsure of where to go from here. He took a step towards Dean but stopped when Tony's voice interrupted the stand off.

"Boss!" Tony shouted. Dean turned his head and saw that Tony had stopped fighting Sam and was staring down at his hands with confusion in his eyes. He turned his hands over and over again and Dean could see that they were blistered and bleeding. Tony looked up at Bernie helplessly. "What's happening?"

Bernie didn't answer. He turned his attention to the crowd who were all staring at various parts of their bodies. They too were finding that their skin had begun to blister and their clothes were beginning to look soiled and charred.

Sam backed away from Tony and addressed the crowd, "There was a fire. The club was destroyed, all of you-" Sam couldn't bare to tell them that they were dead so he stopped there and allowed them to fill in the blanks.

Slowly the memories began to drift back to them and the people who had been dancing the night away were now staring at each other as their flesh began to melt away and their bodies slowly started to become transparent.

"Sam." Jo whispered as she held her sisters hand tightly. Her sister had her other hand clamped around her fiancés arm and all three looked completely terrified.

Sam looked at them sadly, "I'm sorry," was all he could manage to say.

As he scanned the crowd he saw the same looks on all of their faces. Even the newer ones, the ones who hadn't been killed by the fire, were remembering their lives and their deaths and looked scared out of their minds. And then Sam locked eyes with Maryann who was still sliding her locket between her fingers. She was smiling at him. "We're free." She mouthed and Sam nodded at her. There was nothing else to be said.

"Keep dancing!" Bernie ordered as he looked at he crowd. He sensed that he had lost all control but was still trying to regain it. "Don't listen to what they're saying!"

"It's too late, Bernie." Dean said firmly, pulling Bernie's attention back to him, "You don't own them anymore." Bernie tensed up and Dean could see the fear and anger raging in his eyes.

"You destroyed me!" Bernie shouted as a small bullet hole began to develop in the center of his forehead. The blood dripped freely down his face but Bernie ignored it. His attention was too focused on Dean and his desire to kill him. "I'm going to destroy you!" Bernie shouted. He pulled the trigger but his finger slipped through it and the gun crashed to the ground. Bernie stared dumbfounded at his hand. It had begun to decorporealize and he could now see through it to the ground where the gun was laying.

Dean smiled up at him, "See ya in hell." He said mockingly and as he said it a loud bang sounded and the room began to swell with heat. Bernie backed up in fear and the crowd looked around in confusion but before anyone could figure out was going on the ballroom exploded in a blaze of fire.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**TBC…**

**Dum Dum Dum…**


	8. Laying the Past to Rest

**Disclaimer: Not mine but maybe one day.**

**Warnings: Mild language.**

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

_**Chapter Eight**_

Dean shielded his eyes against the intense flames. He could feel the fire licking his arm and he balled himself up against the side of the stage to protect his body from the heat. He began to wonder if breaking the spell while he and Sam were still trapped inside Bernie's world was really a good idea. He wanted to open his eyes and see how well Sam was faring but his eyelids refused to work. Just as the heat was becoming almost too much to bare and Dean was silently wishing to just die and get it over with…it stopped.

Dean froze; almost doubting his own senses as he slowly dropped his arm and looked out onto the empty dance floor. There were no ghosts looking back at him. There was no Bernie, no Maryann, no Tony. The walls were back to their normal charred and graffiti strewn appearance with dust floating carelessly to the abandoned tables below. Dean shifted his gaze from the empty floor to the empty tables before turning to look at Sam, who somehow had managed to find himself on the floor as well. Sam was searching the room too with the same perplexed but relieved face that Dean was sure was present on his face.

"You alright, Sammy?"

Sam checked his arms and hands and patted down his chest. Finding no external burns or bullet holes he nodded. "Yeah, you?"

Dean nodded, "Yeah," he replied as he leaned back against the stage.

"Good." Sam said as he got to his feet and extended his hand to help Dean up. Dean took it and Sam pulled him up. Dean immediately began dusting himself off as Sam turned and walked over to the spot were the unsuccessful séance had taken place. Both their packs and guns were lying exactly were they had been dropped and surprisingly the candles were still burning.

"You think he's gone for good?" Sam asked, still eyeing the candles.

"Yeah," Dean replied, "he's gone."

Something on the floor caught Dean's attention. He moved towards it and crouched down. Lying on the floor, half covered by a pile of ash was a gold locket. Dean picked it up and as he did the locket fell open revealing a picture Maryann and a young James staring lovingly as each other.

"What about them?" Sam asked as he blew out the candles and began to pack them away. "You think they're free? You think they finally found peace?"

Dean stared at the locket for a second longer. "I hope so," He replied finally, "I really hope so." And with that he clamped the locket shut and slid it into his pocket.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once everything was packed up Dean and Sam happily said goodbye to The Sapphire Room and headed back out into the alley. Even though the club was now technically safe to go into they made the effort to push the dumpster back in front of the door just in case. It probably wouldn't keep the neighborhood kids from sneaking in but it would make them think twice before attempting to sneak in. They walked out of the alley and onto the sidewalk in front of the club and were surprised to see Chris and Dre still leaning lazily against the Impala.

"DAAAMN!" Chris exclaimed as Dean and Sam moved closer, "What the fuck happened to ya'll?" Sam turned and looked at Dean and noticed for the first time that Dean had a bloody nose and a split lip. It must have happened during his fight with Bernie because prior to that Dean hadn't appeared that banged up.

Dean wiped the blood away and shrugged, "You got some crazy rats in Philly."

The teens looked at him skeptically but Dean didn't offer a more believable answer. He opened the back door and tossed the bags onto the seat before slamming it shut and leaning back against the door. His ribs and his head were beginning to throb and he hissed painfully as his body settled against the side of the car.

"Rats, huh?" Dre smirked, "It wasn't no crazy ass psycho killer ghost?"

"Thought you didn't believe in ghosts?" Chris smiled.

"Yeah, well I didn't until my man here came outta there looking like a human punching bag." Dre retorted still studying Dean's for signs of what really happened behind those walls.

"And what about you?" Dre asked, turning to look at Sam, "Rats did a job on your neck too?"

Sam rubbed his neck gently, just now realizing the soreness of it. "Yeah," he replied, "big, demon-looking rats."

Dre shook his head, "Ya'll some liars you know that?"

Sam cocked his head and smiled while Dean only gave them a small shrug.

"Yeah well whatever happened in there, I'm gettin' the hell away from here before them _'rats'_ decide to go for round two." Chris stated as he started to walk away from the car.

Dre shook his head again and started to following his friend but Dean grabbed his arm and pulled his closer. Dre looked at him with curiosity, "Just thought you should know, Shanice" Dean paused and shook his head, "didn't move to Florida." He lifted his head towards The Sapphire Room and then looked back at Dre whose eyes were as wide as saucers.

"Oh shit!" Dre turned and began running down the sideway, "Ayo Chris!" He called, "You won't believe what my man just told me!"

Dean smiled at Sam happily. Sam frowned slightly as he reached for the passengers' side door. "You think you should've told him that? Don't you think it would've been better just to let them believe that there was no ghost, that Shanice did move to Florida?"

Dean shrugged as he pushed himself off the car and walked towards the drivers' side door, "Hey, I'm going a public service. Maybe it'll keep kids from going into places that are supposed to be haunted."

"Yeah but that's if anyone even believes him." Sam quipped as he looked at Dean over the top of the car.

"Either way, he'll have a story to tell at school tomorrow." Dean smiled. As Dean opened the door and was about to slid in he heard someone call his name.

"Dean!" He turned and saw elderly black woman come hobbling towards him. "Are you two okay?"

Dean reeled backwards slightly, "Uh, yes. Do I know you?"

The woman ignored his question and took a step closer to him, "You destroyed Bernie." She stated. Dean nodded slowly still unsure as to who the woman was and how she knew about Bernie. Sam watched the encounter half heartedly but a sudden pull sent his mind reeling backwards. His vision suddenly blurred and momentarily he felt as if he's gone deaf. He took a deep breathe as he regained his vision and stared at the woman in disbelief.

Dean who was completely oblivious to Sam's struggle continued to look at the woman. Something in her eyes stood out and Dean immediately knew who he was looking at.

"Annabelle?" he asked. The woman took an uneasy step backwards but stopped when she heard Sam speak up.

"No," Sam chimed as he squinted at the woman, "its Catherine isn't it?" Dean shot Sam a look of confusion but was even more confused when the old woman nodded meekly.

"Wait, Catherine as in Annabelle's grandmother?" Dean was suddenly more confused than he's been all night, "I thought she was dead." He turned and looked at Catherine, "I thought you were dead."

"There is no Annabelle. Catherine is Annabelle." Sam explained. The old woman nodded in response. "Bernie didn't pay you to cast that spell, did he?"

Catherine shook her head, "No. I wanted what Bernie wanted. I wanted eternity." The woman's voice was cracking as she spoke. "Like I told you before Bernie came to me but I didn't make him pay, instead I asked to be in the club that night. So that I could live forever…but I got scared. After I set up the spell, I changed my mind and I ran. I swear I didn't think Bernie would actually die that night. I thought, I though he'd-" Catherine stopped and looked remorsefully at the boys, "I was selfish." She finally said with resolve.

"But," Dean started, "What happened to you? I mean, you were, what, in your 50's this morning and now you look, no offense, old as hell."

Catherine sighed, "As I was leaving the club, the fire started but because I didn't die that night the spell only half worked. I was given eternity but I was still alive and still aware of the horrible thing I'd done." Catherine cast her eyes down.

"Why couldn't you reverse it," Sam squinted his eyes at her again. "You cast the spell so you had the power to end it too."

"Fear." Was all Catherine had to say. "If I reversed the spell, that would mean that I'd," she gestured as herself, "become this. And even though I wanted to, that fear kept me away. But when you two came along asking about The Sapphire Room, I knew you weren't reporters. You weren't like the others who just wanted a cheap thrill. You wanted to help them, which is why I helped you."

"By casting the protection spell?" Dean asked, remembering that Bernie's powers had failed to work on him.

Catherine shook her head, "No, by telling you how to do the séance. I didn't have time to cast the protection spell," her eyes dropped to Dean's neck, "but you didn't need it anyway." She reached out and ran a finger overtop of Dean's necklace. "Who gave you this?"

Dean looked down at the necklace, "My dad, why?"

"He must love you very much." She replied cryptically. Dean reached down and wrapped his hand around the small amulet. He looked up to see Catherine walking away and then without warning her image began to fade and she disappeared.

Dean and Sam both stared at the place where Catherine had just been. Dean whipped his head around and looked at Sam. He allowed what had just happened to dissolve for a minute before responding, "I hate surprise endings." He slid into the drivers seat carefully, making sure to avoid putting any more strain on his sore ribs. Sam stared at the stop where Catherine had been for a few extra seconds before he too got into the Impala and was met with Dean's curious eyes staring back at him.

"What?" Sam asked.

"How did you know it was Catherine?"

"When we went back to the shop for the second time I saw this old photo of Annabelle. I checked the date on the back and it was from 1945 but she looked exactly the same."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Dean asked, training his eyes on Sam.

"At first I thought maybe Annabelle and her grandmother just looked alike, a lot alike," he paused, "but then when I saw her coming towards you," Sam wasn't sure how to explain the sensation he had felt when he saw Catherine. It hadn't been a vision, more like a flash between the past and the present and the images of Catherine and the woman who he thought was Annabelle had been overlain, "I just knew."

"Psychic boy does it again?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I guess." Sam answered as an uncomfortable feeling wash over him at the thought of his developing powers. Dean sensed it and let the issue go. Neither one had any idea how deep the powers actually went and in reality, neither one wanted to know.

"Let's get the hell out of here." Dean said as he revved the engine. Sam nodded his relief and Dean sped of towards the motel.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As soon as they got back to the motel room both packed their bags and prepared to head out. It had been a long night but Dean had insisted that they leave Philly before any other ghosts decided to pop up and add cliff notes to the story. Sam agreed.

As they were leaving Dean saw James sitting in his usual spot outside of his motel room door. He gestured for Sam to wait for him at the car and he walked over to James.

"You two leaving?" James asked as he stared straight ahead.

"Yeah." Dean nodded.

"Had enough of exploring The Sapphire Room?" James asked with a hint of anger in his voice.

"Definitely." Dean scoffed. He now realized that James saw the urban legend about The Sapphire Room almost as if it was an invasion of his privacy. He had in fact had a very close relationship with what happened and had lost the love of his life inside of it.

"I just want you to know," Dean started but he wasn't really sure where he was going with this, "she never stopped loving you." James looked up at him with sadness in his eyes. Dean pulled the locket out of his pocket and pressed it into the old man's hand. James' looked down at it and saw the picture of him and Maryann looking back up at him. Dean could see his eyes begin to tear.

"How did you-" James said but was unable to finish as the tears began to flow freely. Dean knew he didn't really want the answer anyway. He nodded at James and turned and walked towards the car. As he approached the car he saw Sam grinning at him.

"So the Tin Man has a heart after all, huh?"

Dean shook his head and pulled the drivers' door open, "Yeah," Dean replied pointing an accusing finger at Sam, "now, if only the scarecrow could get a brain."

Sam laughed as both he and Dean got into the car. "Now let's get the hell outta here," Dean said as he started the car, "No offense little brother, but I've had enough Brotherly Love."

Sam nodded, "I couldn't agree more." And with that being said, the Winchester boys were back on the road.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**The End**

**Thank you to all the reviewers, it made my job as a writer more fun.**


End file.
